


Sætta

by StarsInTheRiver



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Unconventional Families, but a child is literally tortured so yknow, i wouldnt say child abuse, read only if thats not gonna be a big problem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsInTheRiver/pseuds/StarsInTheRiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki was killed in the battle of new york, and reincarnated as a young boy. Although he remembers nothing but a few blurred memories at first, the arrival of old enemies seeking revenge awakens the worst of them. Now, in order to keep his life, he must earn the trust of the Avengers, his brother, and himself. Some graphic violence and language. Avengers all living in Stark Tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is already posted on fanfiction.net, but since I was 14 when I started it I figured it could use a second draft. I'd recommend reading this one, but if you get to the end before I finish posting you could always head over there.

"I'm so sorry, brother."

"Loki, no!" Thor shouted as his brother gave him one last regretful look before turning and walking straight into the Tessaract portal, the magic around him counteracting the force shielding it. He reached forward and grasped the cube, before disappearing in a blinding explosion of blue light. Above them the portal collapsed inward and around them the Chitauri started to fall, but Thor's eyes were fixed on the spot where his brother had been. The light cleared and his eyes adjusted, leaving him staring at the blackened metal portal frame and a charred golden helmet lying in the dust.

* * *

"Wake up, kid!"

The young boy lying on the steps of an old shop was awakened by a rough nudge to the ribs. He staggered to his feet, narrowing his eyes at his assailant. But when he saw him raise a heavy oak walking stick, he turned and scurried away.

The boy looked around as he turned onto a bigger road, eyes narrowing in thought. He couldn't remember why he'd been lying there.

He searched his mind, trying to remember anything. Nothing came to mind. He stopped suddenly, realizing just how little he could recall. There had been light, then... he had woken up. Nothing else.  _I don't know my name. Do I have a name?_

Looking around frantically, he ran towards a dark window. His own reflection stared back at him, and although it seemed right he didn't recall having seen it before. He looked like he might be eleven or twelve, with pitch-black hair that fell around his ears and bright, curious green eyes. He was dressed in a plain black t-shirt, with torn blue jeans and scrappy green tennis shoes. He searched his pockets, but there was no money or identification.

"Hey, boy! Get outta the way! He jumped to the side just in time to avoid being thrown to the curb by a speeding bicycle.

Shaking himself back to alertness after nearly being hit, he finally took a look around and surveyed the place he had inexplicably found himself. The streets of the city were bustling with people, even though it appeared to be quite early in the morning. Cars rushed by, and pedestrians shoved past the small boy as they hurried to work. He turned and walked along with the flow of activity to avoid being trampled, and his mind thoughts immediately starting to figure out what to do next despite the fact that he had no money, no name,  and no memory. The only thing he knew for certain is that his stomach felt empty, and that he needed to eat soon.

The smell of something frying drew him a ways down the street and towards a metal cart selling some sort of sausage. A hastily scribbled sign besides the cart informed him that a hot dog would cost him two dollars. The nearness of the food only made the pains in his stomach increase, and he started racking his brain for a way to pay for a meal. Glancing around, his eyes landed on a man standing alone and fumbling with a camera. A tourist, judging by the expensive jeans and the unfortunately pattered shirt. A glimpse of green caught his gaze, hanging halfway out of the man's back pocket.

 _That's just lazy. He's practically begging for someone to take it!_ The boy reasoned with himself as he walked towards the tall man, aiming his path to pass directly behind him. His hands were quick, and he slid the slip of paper from the jean pocket easily. The movement came naturally to him, nearly as effortless as breathing.  _Not really a skill someone with no remembered past wants to discover._

When he had walked a reasonable distance from his victim, he examined the bill clutched in his hands. Twenty. That would definitely buy him breakfast, and with luck he could draw it out until he could figure out what the hell he was going to do.

Walking up to the food stand, he handed his money to the vendor.

"Hey there." The man said as he counted his change. "Where're your parents? I'm not really supposed to sell to unaccompanied kids, y'know."

Without a moment of hesitation, the boy smiled charmingly up at him. "My mom's with me. She stepped into a shop and said I could buy myself breakfast. "

"Ok. Better not leave her for too long." He smiled at the kid, handing him his money and his food before turning back to his cart.

Brushing his hair from his eyes, the boy walked off, taking an eager bite of the meal as he walked along the sidewalk. He passed dozens of stores and alleyways, but none of them seemed like a place to start. He glanced up for a moment as he tossed his greasy napkin into a trash can, and spotted a flyer taped to the telephone pole it was leaning against.

HELPER NEEDED.

An address was scrawled beneath, and he glanced up and down the street until he saw a match.  _Maggie's used books. I can work with that._

He crossed the street and walked quickly over to the store. A green wooden sign had the name carved into it, and it the windows were covered by heavy black curtains. Stopping in front, he looked himself over in the dark glass. His hair was ragged and too long to look neat. He ran his fingers through it in a vain attempt to get it away from his eyes, but only succeeded in mussing it more. He wiped the grease from his meal off onto his jeans, straightened his shirt, and pulled open the heavy door.

A bell quietly rang above his head as he lightly stepped in to the shop. Soft, warm light came from lamps placed randomly on shelves, amongst the books, which covered every inch of available space. The room was small, and three of the walls were almost entirely lined with shelves. Five more tall shelves created rows in the middle of the store, and in the corner there was a desk. A young woman sat there, with her feet propped up on the wood and a laptop balanced against her legs. The store was dark for a book store, but the screen illuminated her face. She had long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes. She was kind of pretty, but not strikingly. She looked up when he closed the door and smiled at him.

"Hi! Can I help you?"

He ran his fingers through his hair one last time. "Yes, actually. I saw a sign down the street. Helper needed?"

"Oh, ok!" She scrambled to put the computer down and stand up. "You're the first one to come by." Looking closer at him, she frowned. "How old are you? I suppose age doesn't really matter, because it's technically not a real job, but I'd feel bad keeping a nine year old kid cooped up in here with me for a few bucks."

"I'm not nine!" he replied indignantly. "I'm.. Twelve." He picked the age because it was probably the oldest he could pass for, and he had no idea what his real age was. "I can work, I don't mind being indoors."

"I can't really pay you much, you know. Maybe ten dollars a day or something. I just need someone to organize and sweep, stuff like that."

"That's fine," he said immediately, "I just need a job." Ten dollars a day would feed him. That was priority.

"Ok… if you're sure." Leaning on the edge of her desk, she surveyed the scrappy boy in front of her. He was skinny, but his eyes were bright. "What's your name?"

 _Crap. Why didn't I think of that?_ He cast his mind around for a name, any name at all. "Luke." He had no idea why he'd said that, and it didn't sound quite right to him. But it felt half familiar on his tongue, and he supposed it would work.

"Alright then, Luke. Do you think you can start today?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He figured politeness was best, as he was now relying on this woman for money.

"Oh, don't call me that. It's Maggie. And in that case, you can start over here. Some jackasses decided that none of the books they were looking at needed to be put back where they went." She gestured to a small stack of maybe fifteen books in a pile near her desk. "Could you put them back on the shelves? Things are organized by genre, and then author name." Remembering how young he was, she added, "Do you want me to show you?"

"It's ok. I'll figure it out." He walked over to the books, grabbing three. He was small for twelve, she thought, and his thin fingers looked strange gripping the heavy leather covers. Green eyes examined the spine seriously before he turned and disappeared behind a shelf. Slowly, she sat back down at her desk.  _What a weird kid._

 

'Luke' Walked along the biographies shelf, scanning for the name Mark Twain. Ten dollars a day was pretty good, considering he couldn't legally get a job. As he slid the book into place, the quiet of the room and the calmness of his activity were allowing the events of the day to finally sink in.  _I have no idea who I am. I have literally no memories. I have no home, and no family as far as I know._

His hands shook slightly as he read the next book spine. The Time Machine, Wells, science fiction.  _I'm probably going to freak out about this later._

The shelves were a good two feet taller than him, maybe more, and he had to stretch to slide the book into place. He distracted himself by getting through the stack of books as quickly as possible, trying to avoid thinking about his predicament. When he was done, Maggie had him sit next to her desk and put stickers on books according to genre. They sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being her keyboard and the sound of books being moved and the occasional page being flipped.

"Hey, Luke. What time do you need to be home by?"

The boy set his book down carefully. "I don't." Quickly realizing that this was a fairly suspicious answer, he added, "I mean my parents don't really care. I usually just wander around the city during the day. This is way better." This was as close to the truth as he was willing to go. He knew that telling her he was homeless and without family would cause her to want nothing to do with him, and he needed money. He didn't look up to gauge her reaction, instead flipping open the next book to look for genre.

Maggie stopped typing to stare at the boy. What kind of twelve year old was left alone all day? And what kid would rather spend his time in a dark room than out in the city? He continued to work as though he hadn't said anything unusual, still focused and quiet. She hadn't really looked that closely at him before, and little things were starting to pop out. The hair that looked like it hadn't been cut in a month. The raggedy jeans, the pale thinness of his arms. He sat up perfectly straight as he worked, and there was a smoothness in his movements that was strange to see in a twelve year old boy. There was something off about him, and she couldn't help feeling uneasy and unbearably curious all at once. She watched him a few minuted longer, hoping to herself that keeping the kid on wouldn't come back to bite her later.


	2. Chapter 2

The books took the intensely focused boy about two hours to complete. He hadn't moved or stopped working once, and the moment he had finished he looked up at Maggie expectantly.

"Jeez, Luke. You work faster than I do. You can take a break, I don't actually have that much for you do. You don't have to be around the store for more than a few hours, really, it's not that busy."

He glanced at his hands before responding. "Is it alright if I hang out here? I'll be quiet, I just don't have anywhere else to be."

She looked at him strangely, but nodded. "Hey, if you're going to be here, would you mind running across the street and getting snacks?" She reached into a drawer and sifted through the contents for several moments before pulling out a five-dollar bill. "There's a café. Just get me a medium lemonade, and whatever you want for yourself."

Carefully, he reached up and room the money from her outstretched fingers. He stood somewhat clumsily, his legs numb from sitting for so long, and walked over to the heavy door and pulled it open.

The sunlight was blinding, although the cool air felt good after the warmth of the store. Squinting, he adjusted to the noise of outside. As soon as there were no cars he ran across the street and into the small café. The smell of pastries and coffee immediately hit him, and he breathed in deeply. It wasn't a familiar scent, but it still managed to be comforting. Walking up to the glass counter, he stared at all the choices before him. Most of the little cakes and breads were not familiar to him, and he had almost no idea what his own food preferences were. Eventually he choice a round bun topped with creamy icing, ordered the lemonade, and walked out clutching his purchases. Back on the sidewalk, he stopped. He nibbled on his snack as he gazed around him. He had seen the street already, and his eyes slid to the sky, staring at the towering buildings of the main city a ways off. He was admiring the stone and metal of the skyline when one building in particular caught his gaze. It wasn't at all menacing, but something about sleek curving of the side and the cold blue lights around the top sent a shiver down the boy's spine.

He returned to the bookstore. Handing Maggie her drink, he tried to be casual. "Do you know the name of that weird tower in the city? The tall one, with the blue words."

"Stark tower? 'Course I know it. How do you not?"

He shrugged and slumped against the wall.  _Stark Tower… Why does that name sound familiar?_ The sound of the name was filling him with a horrible, twitchy feeling, so he distracted himself by continuing to work on his snack. It worked, as it was the most delicious thing he could ever remember tasting.

Neither person said much for the rest of the day. The dark haired little boy spent most of the remaining time huddled in a corner with a book he had found, and startling customers when they noticed him. Maggie stayed at her desk, occasionally throwing glances in his direction or asking him to do a quick job. When closing time came around, she handed him ten dollars, and watched him walk off. He didn't go in the direction of the only nearby apartments, as she had expected, but back towards the stores. She stood there for several minutes, pulling her coat tightly around her against the cold, until she saw his black t-shirt disappear inside a Wal-Mart.

* * *

The cold had already gotten to the skinny boy, and he knew if he was going to make it through the night he would need a way to keep warm. He stepped into a large store that looked like it could sell just about anything. He was greeted with the sight of several coat racks marked SALE, right by the entrance. There weren't many in his size, but he eventually settled on a long black one. It seemed thick, and the length would keep more of him covered. The price tag read twenty five dollars. This would leave him only three dollars left for food, but an icy gust of wind blowing in through the open door settled it. He would much rather go hungry for a while than freeze to death in an alley somewhere. As he paid for the coat, his eyes wandered to the food for sale by the cash register. Two dollars for either a bag of chips or a bottle of water. Casting his mind back, he realized that he had had nothing at all to drink that day. His stomach growled at him, but he knew there were priorities. Grabbing the plastic bottle and placing it on the counter, he reluctantly handed over his remaining money. The cashier handed him his one remaining dollar, and he pushed it into the pocket of his new coat. Pulling it over his shoulders, he noticed that it was slightly too large, but the fabric was just as warm as it had felt. He twisted the cap of the water bottle open as he walked back outside, shuddering as the rapidly cooling air hit him. He raised the bottle to his lips and drank nearly half of it before stopping for breath. The water hadn't been chilled, and he was grateful, as a cold drink was not something he needed right now. He stuffed the rest into his pocket for later. Clutching the coat tightly to his thin frame, he walked down the street in search of a place sheltered enough to sleep. The sun was rapidly setting, and the temperature continued to drop. Around him, people were closing up shops, turning off lights, pulling on jackets. He watched them walk home, laughing and chatting as they did.

Watching the rest of the world, for the first time that day, his situation truly hit him. Hard. His head spun slightly, and he stumbled over to a building. He gasped for breath as he clutched the brick wall.  _I'm all alone in the middle of a city. I don't even know what city it is! I don't have a name, or a home, or, as far as I know, anything at all_. His legs started shaking, and he staggered into the alley between two short brick buildings. No way he was going to keep walking.

The boy collapsed with his back pushed up against a dumpster, pulling his legs tightly to his chest.  _Don't panic, dummy. You're not helping things at all._ He pressed his forehead to his knees, trying to calm himself.  _You'll work through this. You just need to keep it together until you can figure out what happened. Where you came from._

He stayed like this for a long time, almost completely wrapped in his coat and nestled in the corner between a solid wall and the metal behind him. With his hair falling forward and black fabric draped over his shoes, he was barely visible. Had anyone glanced into the alleyway, they would have mistaken the resting boy for a shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in between updates, I totally forgot I was posting on here too. Bad timing, I know, no ones reading fanfiction on Christmas eve, but whatever.


	3. Chapter 3

_"No, Loki." There was blinding light, a voice of someone he loved calling out to him; then darkness. He lay somewhere cold, his entire body aching. Dark forms shifted around the edges of his vision, and he tried to twist to see them. Lightning pains shot up his spine and through his limbs, causing him to cry out._

_"Hello, little prince." There was a face, crinkled and red and grinning like a madman. "Where did you come from?" Hands grabbed him from all sides, pulling him upright and sending the blinding, crippling pain through him again. He heard screams. Were they his? The whole world was shaking and spinning, and the horrible red face filled his vision. A huge hand gripped his forearm. It must have been broken, and this time the scream was definitely his. He felt it ripped from his throat as the hand squeezed harder and the bones grated together. Forget broken, his arm felt shattered. "He will heal. He has magic." The voice belonging to the terrifying face, and it grated at his ears as he continued. "Bring him. I believe he could be the key we've been looking for." Long black hair fell in front of his face as he tried to protest, but the hands grabbed him roughly and he was pulled along to god knows where. The pain was agonizing, and it took over his every nerve until the world faded into black around him._

* * *

The young boy curled on the ground woke with a start, shaking violently and with tears running down his face. The air was still absolutely freezing, despite the paling sky in the east, and the sudden awakening had allowed the warm air to escape from his tightly wrapped coat. The pain from his dream still seemed to linger, even though he was awake, and the fear was still coursing through him.  _Just a dream. It was just a dream._ He sat there, shivering, until all that was left of the dream was a dull ache and a sense of uneasiness. His limbs were numb from the cold, and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, so he stood and walked shakily back on to the street. There was no one around yet, as the sun had barely breached the horizon. He scanned the street for a place to get warm. This street was really the only thing in his memory, so he wasn't going to forget it any time soon, and most of the buildings were already familiar. Almost all of the store windows were dark, but a little ways away a glimmering 'open' sign caught his eye. Squinting, he made out the small café he had visited the day before, and there was light coming from the window. Coffee had been the main thing on the menu, of course they would open early.

The freezing numbness had spread since getting up; it now covered his face and most of his arms and legs. Walking helped, but he was still eager to get inside the warm shop. Maybe he could even afford something hot to drink with his remaining dollar. As he hurried down the quickly brightening street, his eyes turned up again. Stark tower gleamed bright orange from the light of the sunrise. The sight was still familiar, but no matter how much he tried to recall anything about the building all he got was a feeling of loss. He shook the sensation off as he crossed the street and pushed open the glass doors.

The warm air washing over him was, without a doubt, the most amazing thing he had ever felt. He closed his eyes as it touched every bit of him and drove out the ice that seemed to have seeped into his veins. He walked up to the counter to look at the menu. It was unlikely that there was anything for under a dollar, but he decided to ask just in case.

"Exc-" His inquiry was cut off as a violent fit of coughing came from nowhere. He hadn't spoken aloud since yesterday afternoon, and the sound tickled his already slightly sore throat. Sleeping on the freezing ground probably hadn't done much for his health, either. "Sorry," he mumbled to the concerned looking man behind the counter. "I just wanted to know if there was anything I could get for a dollar?"

There wasn't, but the young man, whose nametag read John, couldn't bring himself to turn the pale little kid away. He was still shaking from the cold, despite the heated air inside and his long coat.

"I'll see what I can do. Is hot chocolate ok?"

The shivering child couldn't quite recall if he liked chocolate, but he was willing to try anything. He fumbled in his deep pockets for his dollar and handed it, slightly crumpled, to the man.

"Take a seat. I'll bring it to you, there's no one else here." John flattened out the bill and put it in his pocket. He would pay for the boy's drink later.

The boy in question was seated himself at a glass table, his feet swinging an inch or so off the ground. His fingers and toes were beginning to burn as the feeling returned to them, and he was feeling the effects of his night outside. Sniffling, he tucked his head into his arms and waited. Somehow, he felt much younger than he had yesterday. His confidence was wavering after his brief moment of panic the night before, and his stomach was twisting painfully. He felt kind of sick, although it was probably just the cold and would wear off soon.

The table had been scratched at some point, and there was a long line carved into the blue glass. The boy traced his still burning fingers carefully along it, the coolness soothing them. He hummed softly to try and clear his throat, a tune from somewhere in the back of his mind. As he waited, his thoughts drifted back to his dream. It had been strangely disorienting, but he remembered every second. A shudder ran up his back as he recalled the horrible pain and the leering red face. The only good thing about the entire experience had been that voice calling out as he fell. The tone of voice had been terrified and heartbroken as it screamed out to him, but it still somehow comforted him. It seemed like the most familiar thing in the world, and filled him with a strong sense of safety.

"So, what's a kid doing up and around at six fifteen in the morning?"

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" His dark hair swung into his eyes as he looked up at the man holding two disposable cups and sitting down across from him. "Oh, um..." He was tired, and unlike yesterday he had to think for a moment before the lie slipped off his tongue. "My parents go to work early. I couldn't get back to sleep after they left, so I took a walk."

He reached greedily for the steaming cup John slid across the table towards him. The hot foam cup warmed his hands, which were still cold as ice despite the blood that had returned feeling to them. The chocolate was tantalizing, but the steam that rose from the top said that he would scorch his tongue if he tried to taste it. "Thank you."

"Sure." His eyes scanned over the kid clutching the cup like it was made of gold. He was still shaking, although not quite as much as before. His hair wasn't exactly well groomed, but then again, he thought to himself, neither was any other young boy's hair. Somehow his solemn way of conducting himself had him expecting the kid to seem older in other ways as well, but despite his careful sentences and respectful tone he couldn't be more than twelve. His long black coat seemed fairly new, but fit loosely on his shoulders. Something about him was definitely off and he couldn't help himself from voicing a few questions.

"I've never seen you around before, and I know pretty much everyone on the block. You just move here?"

"Mmm hmm." The thin stirring straw entranced him as he swirled it to make little whirlpools in the dark brown drink.

He wasn't really paying attention to John, his stomach crying out desperately for food now that he could smell the variety of pastries and coffees in the shop. He looked longingly over at the displays, half wishing he had managed to take more money from the tourist yesterday.

The older man sighed. The kid was starving, clearly, and he wouldn't get answers out of him while his stomach was controlling his mind.

"Hey, if I buy you a roll, will you focus on the conversation?"

Green eyes immediately shot up to stare at him. "Really? You'd buy me one?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure. If you'll talk to me. It gets boring up here, before people start showing up."

The first smile he'd seen on the boy's face lit up his pale features.

"Conversation sounds good."

* * *

 

The sun was glaring off the windows, as the sun had at some point broken over the tops of the low buildings. John ran fingers through his blonde hair as he watched the boy devour the sweet bread like it was the first thing he had eaten in days. The hot chocolate had cooled enough for him to gulp it down, which he was doing enthusiastically in between bites. He wasn't a messy or impolite eater, despite the speed. He chewed with his mouth closed and barely dropped a crumb, and swallowed before taking another bite _. What a weird kid._

"So. Let's start simple. What's your name?"

The boy finished his bite and took a breath before answering. "I'm Luke." The name from yesterday stuck firmly in his mind. Hearing himself say it out loud, though, triggered another flashback from his dream. The first voice, of an old man, saying words that had seemed to break his heart although he didn't know why. _No, Loki._

Loki. What, or probably who, was Loki? And why was he dreaming about them? With no memories, it would make sense to dream about what he knew from the past two days. Or even whoever he had been before, if that was still buried in his brain somewhere. But the void and the strange name didn't fit anywhere into the real world. And if it had been nothing but a fantasy, why was it sticking with him so clearly?  _No, Loki_. Loki, Luke. Great, now he'd never forget the dream, as long as his chosen name reminded him of it.

"Luke. Luke!" John snapped his fingers in front of the boy's face, trying to rouse him from his trance. The shout brought him back around. "Huh?"

"I asked you where you lived before here. You a little tired?"

The kid rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Tired." He hadn't thought about what to say if anyone asked where he'd been before, so he blurted out the first thing to jump into his head. "I used to live in the city, near Stark tower." The building was one of the only places he knew, so his options were limited , but he still regretted saying it. The building gave him a feeling he didn't quite understand, and he'd prefer to think about it as little as possible.

"Oh." The man nodded knowingly. "Did you guys move after the whole alien deal?"

Luke stared blankly.

"Oh, c'mon. You can't not know about the battle of New York, especially living near Stark tower."

His expression remained uncomprehending and slightly shocked.

"Wow, seriously? Ok. There was kind of an alien attack on the city, like, less than a month ago. It demolished half the city. There were superheroes, and aliens, and some man with a crazy helmet and a cape." He looked in wonder at the stunned kid. "I have no idea how you didn't know. Where you lived, your apartment could have been blasted apart."

Struggling to summon words, the child stuttered, "I- I stayed inside most of the time. And we didn't have a TV."

 _Aliens._ He didn't know much about himself or the environment he found himself in, but he had basic knowledge of how things were. And this knowledge was telling him that aliens were not real.

John shook his head. "That is really weird."

His companion seemed uncomfortable with the topic, so he switched it. "So, you have plans for the rest of your day?"

The bright eyes snapped out of a wide-eyed stare, and focused upward at the clock. "Actually, yeah. I'm helping out over there." He gestured towards the book store across the street. "Do you know I what time it opens?"

"Seven thirty. I don't know why she opens so early, no one's buying books on a Saturday morning."

The clock currently read nearly eight o'clock. "I should really go, then. I don't have to be there for a while, but I'd like to be early." He climbed out of the chair, his sneakers hitting the floor with a dull thump. "Thank you for breakfast. You'll probably see me again tomorrow, but I'll have money then." He tossed his empty cup into the trash can as he walked towards the door. "Goodbye."

John watched him open the heavy glass door open with some amusement. "Bye, Luke." Watching him glance for oncoming cars before stumbling across the street, he once again though to himself,  _What a weird kid._


	4. Chapter 4

Maggie looked up in surprise as the bell on the door rang. Sunlight illuminated the floor, and Luke walked in. Glancing at her computer, she noticed that it was barely eight.

"You're up early." As her eyes readjusted, she took in the long coat wrapped around him, and the tired look in his eyes.

"Yeah, I've been walking around. The man who works across the street is nice, he bought me breakfast."

He felt no obligation to lie to her more than he had to. Maggie had been kinder to him than she had to be, and he appreciated it. "I figured I'd come here, as it's too cold to hang around outside. Is that ok?" He was suddenly worried that he might be a nuisance if he spent too much time in the shop. As a maybe-twelve year old in the middle of a city, he was extremely lucky to have found a way to make any money at all. He'd rather spend most of his day outside in the cold with some food than all of it outside in the cold and starving.

The dark haired woman saw fear flit quickly across the pale boy's face as he asked permission to stay. She covered up her concern with nonchalance. "Of course. As long as you're not knocking over shelves and driving people away, you can stay in here however long you want."

Relieved, he walked over to the wooden floor beside her desk. The book he had carefully tucked into the shelf beside him the day before was still there, and after taking off his coat and laying it over the cold floor he pulled it out and settled down with it in his lap.

He looked exhausted, even more now that the coat wasn't covering him. His arms almost seemed skinnier than they had been yesterday, and were as ghostly pale as his face. His hair wasn't as clean as the day before, and he seemed to be wearing the same clothes. His eyes were slightly red, with traces of dark shadows underneath. Looking closely, she could see his fingers shaking every time he picked them up to turn a page, and every few minutes he would sniffle or cough quietly.

"You ok, Luke?"

He jumped slightly when she addressed him. He had been deeply buried in his book. "Y-yeah. Just a little tired, I guess."

The shaking had spread to his arms, even though he held them tightly against his torso. Maggie gave him a long look. "Are you cold?"

The boy shrugged.  _Of course he's cold. It's November in New York, and you hardly heat this place at all. You have on two sweaters, he's barely got a t-shirt_. Swiveling her chair, the young woman reached into the corner behind her desk and grabbed a thick wool blanket she kept for when the heat went completely out. It had been sitting there for over a year, untouched except when she moved it to clean.

"Here. Wrap up." She tossed the red blanket. His reflexes were surprisingly quick, and he caught it.

After a brief hesitation, he wrapped the brightly colored fabric around his shoulders and pulled it tight around himself. "Thank you" he mumbled.

Hours passed, and before long it was almost noon. A few dozen people had wandered in, a few bought something. The boy had fixed the books after a few inconsiderate customers, but the blanket remained wrapped around him the entire time. It had been a while since anyone had stopped by, so Maggie figured she'd send Luke out for lunch. She turned around, the words already half out of her mouth, to find him curled on his side cocooned in the heavy scarlet cloth. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even and light. Asleep, he looked even younger, maybe ten years old. The book he'd been reading was clutched against his chest and his fingers were holding his place.

Looking at him resting on her floor, the young woman realized she was starting to get attached to the boy. Maybe it was just compassion for a child in what didn't seem to be a great situation, but there was definitely something drawing her to protect him. Or at the very least let him sleep.

So, sandwiches from the mini-fridge it was.

Maggie ate her sandwich in silence, a book pulled on to her knees and a Pepsi balanced on her stomach. There were never customers around lunch, so she had gotten out of her chair and was curled into the corner behind her desk when she heard the red bundle near her feet start to murmur softly. She glanced up at him, concerned by his tone of voice.

"Thor… please…" his fingers gripped the blanket so hard that the knuckles were turning white, but his eyes remained shut. "Brother, I'm sorry…"

His legs were twitching as he rolled over, still mumbling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He was having some sort of nightmare. "Hey, Luke." She put the book on the floor beside her and reached over to shake his leg. "Wake up."

The second her fingers touched him, he jumped like he had been shocked. "NO!" he half shouted as he jerked awake. His eyes were wide and terrified as they stared around at the quiet shop, and his breaths were ragged and heavy.

Maggie reached out a hand, trying to calm him. "You ok?"

Slowly, the boy realized where he was. His face was still white, and she swore she could see tears in his bright green eyes, but he wasn't panicking. He actually seemed embarrassed that he had fallen asleep, and ducked his head. He picked up his book and he stared at the cover. "Yeah. Sorry."

She frowned at him. "You don't have to apologize for falling asleep. There's no one here, you didn't have anything better to do. " He continued to stare intently at the book, so she dropped it, sliding him a sandwich on a paper plate instead. "I made lunch. Eat if you want."

Shaky fingers reached out from under the red fabric to grab the sandwich, although he remained silent. Maggie went back to her book. He'd be better once he woke up a bit more.

* * *

_Bright crimson covered his vision as he was tackled. "Loki, you have to move faster than that!" Tearing the red cape away from his eyes, the black haired, green clothed child stared up at the boy sitting on his chest._

_"Thor, you know I can't outrun you. Lets play something I'm good at for once. And take the cape off, you look ridiculous."_

_"No! I look like a prince. At least I'm not wearing a necklace." The golden haired boy plucked at the chain around his brother's neck playfully before climbing off of him. "What do you want to play, then?"_

_"It helps with my magic, and it looks fine." Despite his words, he tucked the pendant back into his tunic. "Hide and seek?"_

_Thor shrugged his consent and covered his eyes, counting down from twenty. Loki ran off, grinning mischievously. This was a game he could win_ _any day._

_The scene shifted. The brothers were still there, but they were much older. Their surroundings were blurry, but a cloudy sky was visible._

_"Loki, you have to stop this. I know you don't want to kill all these people. Turn off the Tessaract, and come home. Please." Thor held his brother tightly by the back of the neck as he pleaded with him. Loki looked back at him, unshed tears shining in his blue eyes._

_"I can't. It's too late to stop it." Thor shoved his younger brother to the side and walked towards the glowing structure to the side. His huge hands pushed against the force field surrounding it, but it pushed back with a flash of light. "Thor, it's made of energy. It will kill you before you break through it." The blonde man pushed against it again. "Brother, stop it." He was ignored. "Thor!" He ran to his brother, pulling his hands back._

_"If you will not stop it then I must try. It is my duty to this realm." He drew back the hammer in his hand as if to strike the barrier, but a pale hand on his shoulder stopped him._

_"Thor, please. You will achieve nothing but your own death."_

_"Then why will you not do it for me? I know that you can."_

_Loki stared at him, green eyes pleading for a way out, before finally relenting. "I'll do it, but on one condition."_

_"What would that be?"_

_"You do not try to get me out of this alive" And with those words, he turned and pushed into the energy. Looking his brother in the eyes, he called out one last apology, and plunged his hand into the heart of the portal. A brief moment of flames, and then darkness._

_"You have failed me, Asgardian." The red face from his previous dream was suddenly there, terrifyingly near, hissing at him. "You will pay."_

* * *

The boy did return to normal, after several hours of sorting through and alphabetizing a large stack of papers. The monotonous task allowed him to focus and clear his mind. He didn't do much talking, but responded when spoken to and politely said goodbye when the store closed at five. Ten dollars in his pocket, he walked towards the store. He knew exactly what he wanted. The air wasn't yet freezing, but he knew it would be tonight. He had nearly frozen the night before, and he could feel himself getting sick. Sickness coupled with his current eating and sleeping arrangements could have awful effects.

Once in the store, it took him the better part of an hour to find a blanket that was the perfect balance between warm and cheap, eventually deciding on a fluffy green throw blanket for six dollars.

In the food isle, with the blanket draped over his arm, he tried to figure out a three dollar meal. Two had to be saved for breakfast tomorrow, but finding cheap foods that would serve as dinner was proving to be a challenge. He sifted through cans of soup and vegetables, trying to pick something healthy that he could afford. A can of store brand chicken soup ended up being chosen, and the half bottle of water from the day before would work as a drink.

He paid the cashier and walked back outside. The blanket remained in his hands, although his other purchases fit into his pockets. It was barely six in the evening, far too early to settle down for the night.  _I wonder if there's somewhere warm I can eat. I haven't really seen much of… wherever I am, other than this street. And I've only really looked at a few of the shops here. There has to be somewhere I can just sit down, right?_

The Wal-Mart he had just exited was about halfway down the street. He had seen pretty much everything to the right, and other than the café and the bookstore there were only a few places open. To the left, however, he could see at least ten glowing windows, most of which looked promising. As he turned, he could see that at least half of the open stores were restaurants, which meant unless he ordered something he couldn't go in. As he walked down the street, his eyes fell on a closed store, with tables out front next to a Laundromat.  _That'll do. Not warm, but a table is better than the ground._

The chair was cold metal, so he draped his blanket over the seat to soften it. The dark haired boy crossed his legs as he pulled the tab off of the can. He looked out at the street, which still had a fair amount of traffic, watching the warmly dressed groups of people walk home in the dimming light.  _They all look so secure_ , he though to himself.  _And here I am, happy because I have dinner and something soft to sleep on. That can't be right._ The soup vanished quickly as he drank it from the can, and although it was salty and thin it was the most he had eaten all day and he appreciated every drop.  _Three meals today. I'd better not get used to it, I cant really afford to eat this much._

He remained perched on the chair for several more minutes, watching the sun sink lower in the sky and the crowds thin out. Eventually he stood, tossing the empty can into a trash can and gathering his blanket. His gaze wavered to the Laundromat next door, then down at himself. He had no way of knowing when anything he was wearing had last been cleaned. Both the shirt and pants felt fairly clean, but it had been at the very least two days since he had put them on. Probably more.

With a sigh, he turned and entered. There was no way he was going to completely strip down, but as these were, at the moment, his only clothes he could be shirtless for a while. He'd probably have to go hungry for a few days, but he needed another set of clothes soon. Dropping his blanket and coat onto a bench, the boy peeled off the solid black shirt before removing his shoes and socks as well. The price on the machine was a dollar, which only left him one to buy soap from the vending machine.  _There goes breakfast._

* * *

 

The machine rumbled in the background as he flipped through a magazine he had found. The raven-haired boy was sprawled across the bench, his blanket wrapped around him and his bare feet hanging off the end. He had already washed his face and neck in the restroom, all he had left to do was wait for the clothes. The building was mostly empty at this time of night, so no one disturbed him. He was casually scanning the pages of TIME magazine, stopping every once and a while when an article caught his attention. Bored, he tossed it down and picked up another issue. This one was more recent, maybe a month old. The picture on the cover was what had caught his eye. The heading on the top read  **'Heroes among us'**  in white print, and standing proudly underneath was a man in a somewhat ridiculous skintight outfit. A red white and blue shield matched his clothes, and he stared confidently out of the photo with intense blue eyes.

Something about the picture sent a jolt up the boy's spine. He knew that man. Quickly, he opened the magazine and located the article mentioned on the front. 'Aliens in New York.' On the first page, under the red letters of the title, there was a picture of six people in costumes. He stared at them individually, a shiver of recognition running through him with each one. Beneath that, however, there were emotions that he couldn't quite explain associated with each intent face. A red haired woman, labeled as the Black Widow, gave a sense of shame. The blonde man to her right, Hawkeye, regret. For the blonde man on the front and another wearing a red suit of metal (Captain America and Iron man, he noted) there was uneasiness. The angry green beast that stood behind them all sent genuine terror through him, and he looked away quickly. It was the last man, though, that made him truly stop. He wore armor, varying shades of silver and grey, with a red cape fastened to his shoulders. His silver winged helmet was out of place among the other more modern outfits, yet to him it seemed more normal than the rest. Looking at him gave the boy a completely unreasonable sense of home. There was sadness too, but the warm feeling was much stronger.

The magazine called him Thor.

 _Thor...why do I know that..._  And for the second time that day his dreams flashed back to him, completely knocking him out of the present moment. Falling through space, a friendly face laughing at a joke, the same face with tears in the eyes begging him to stop. This man had been in his dreams. Why did he have a superhero in his dreams? Why did he know these people at all? Twelve years old and homeless, with nothing but fuzzy memories of a bunch of superheroes. Fantastic.

His fingers reached over to turn the page, but he was stopped as the washing machine dinged to a stop.

Scrambling to grab the quarters he had left on the table, the kid transferred the clothes to a drier. He didn't even bother to settle down properly before grabbing the corner of the article and flipping to the next page. What he saw nearly stopped his heart.

Perched on the top of the Stark Tower as a man, dressed in green and gold, with a sneer on his face and a spear in his hands.

Every muscle in his young body was frozen and he felt suddenly cold with dread. Every detail about the man was more familiar to him than his own face, but not in the warm way that the long haired superhero had been. Instead there was fear, disgust, and grudging acceptance. More and more emotions washed over him the longer he stared at the maniacally grinning face, none of which made sense together. Desperation, loneliness, pain, strength. He slammed the flimsy booklet shut, covering the face, although the panicked confusion stayed. It took nearly ten minutes before he had calmed enough to put the magazine down. Behind him the machine quietly alerted him that it had finished, and he moved to retrieve his clothes and put them back on with shaking fingers. His mind was almost completely numb as he attempted to process what had happened. Some things were twice as unclear as they had been before, but he now knew one thing for sure. The battle of New York, or whatever, he had seen firsthand. And judging from the fact that his reaction was not really that of a casual witness, his experience had not been a passive one.

He stumbled through the dark street, coat tied around his waist and blanket draped over his shoulders to block out the frozen wind. Superheroes, aliens... He had barely two days of experience with the world and already he was terrified and confused.

It couldn't be later than seven thirty when the still shaking boy collapsed in the alleyway, but he was still exhausted. Tonight he curled behind the metal dumpster, and it blocked most of the wind. That plus the extra protection of the blanket left him almost entirely covered and he was actually quite warm.

The temperature continued to drop, but only his exposed face and fingers felt the sting. They were quickly numb and red, but he barely noticed, still lost in thought about the magazine article.

 _So I was in New York at the time. I guess this is New York? I probably should have guessed that before now, actually._  His hair fell back over his eyes as he slumped forward, his forehead pressing into his knees and his eyes tightly shut.  _It doesn't mean anything about me, probably. This thing's been all over the news, everyone knows about them. That guy was taking over the city, of course seeing him would upset me. For all I know he killed someone close to me. Maybe he's the reason I'm in this situation at all!_  That didn't seem quite right. Emotions towards a cold-blooded killer, especially one who murdered a loved one, did not include pity. The fear and disgust made sense, but not the loneliness or that horrible trapped feeling. But the thought that he might have any relationship with this psychopath other that that of the victim was one he refused to entertain.

And the fear he felt seeing the pictures of the heroes, the uneasiness, scared him.  _They were at the battle, I'm probably just associating them with what happened. They were, after all, killing things._ The explanation was shaky at best, but the boy clung to it. It was the closest thing to a past that he could accept, and although some part of him knew he was missing something big he ignored it. The dreams were temporarily pushed from his mind in the determination to believe that he was nothing more than an amnestic victim.

This was the last thought in his mind as he drifted off. He stayed perfectly still even as he slept, the only movement being his hair when the wind ruffled through it. Nine o'clock struck, and the alley was perfectly silent. Ten, and the quiet had spread to the street. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the whimpers started.


	5. Chapter 5

_At first, there was nothing but darkness. A silent, total absence of light that filled the room to a breaking point and strengthened the fear in the eyes of the man crouched in the corner. Although nothing was visible, he was conscious of his surroundings, and they became clearer as the scene solidified in the mind of the dreaming boy. A cell, made entirely from rough rock and about seven feet wide in every direction, completely empty except for its sole occupant._

_He sat with his back pushed firmly into the sharp wall. His arms were suspended above his head in smooth silver chains and he wore nothing but a somewhat tattered pair of black pants. Long scraggly black hair partially obscured a gaunt and bleeding face, but the gleaming green eyes shone out in a terrified stare. His chest was a nightmare. Blistering red burn marks started at his left shoulder, sweeping down to his stomach and through the bloody mess of lashes and cuts that marred the pale skin. Every rib was visible and his spine dug into the jagged wall. His back was in similar condition as his chest, with the addition of long bleeding welts overlapping each other and covering the majority of the exposed skin. The most noticeable mark, however, was a symbol seared into the otherwise untouched flesh on his right shoulder. They were words, and although he couldn’t see them he knew that they read ‘_ _læging’. Disgrace._

_There was a light, now, shining faintly from under the door and casting a faint white glow onto the man. In the strange way of dreams, the boy was both the terrified prisoner and an onlooker. The jangling of keys outside the door set him shaking violently and scrambling pitifully farther back into his corner, just as the mechanical white light flooded the tiny cell and blinded him._

_The voices of the hulking figures that entered was hissing and rasping. “Look at this, the little prince is awake. Have you been waiting for us, runt?”_

_Desperation and humiliation were prevalent in the man’s choked response. “Please, just leave me alone…”_

_“The prince begs. It seems as though it’s finally learning.” The creature’s gray skin was dull even in the glaring light his partner held, although his pale silver garment shimmered. “But to no avail.” The cuffs holding his arms were unlocked, and the chaffed skin beneath was tightly grabbed. The rough gray hand dwarfed the bony wrists and no cuff was needed as the battered man was yanked to his feet and pulled out the door. He struggled for a moment, but a quick smack to the back of the head stilled him. “Our Asgardian cast off seems to be beginning to realize his place, don’t you think?” The two creatures laughed._

_The man between them ducked his head, but his next words were clear and calm. “My name,” he said, “is Loki.”_

* * *

 

 The boy’s own muffled scream woke him. He jolted upright, searching wide-eyed for a snarling grey monster before the frozen air reminded him where he was. It had been a nightmare. A horrible, bloody, vivid nightmare, but no more than that. He was fine.

The dream had gotten blurry after the guard had first struck him, and he was glad. He could remember enough to know that the rest hadn’t been something he wanted to ever think about again. Although he was awake, pain still lingered from the creature’s cruelty. His wrists ached where he had been strung from the ceiling, and he could almost feel fresh lashes on his shoulders and chest. He almost removed his hands from the warmth of his blanket cocoon just to reach back and rub his shoulder to check that there wasn’t in fact a word seared into it.

_At least you're not crying tonight. They’re just stupid dreams, anyways, probably because you’ve been sleeping outside and almost freezing to death. Sleeping badly gives weird dreams, right?_

His own reasoning did nothing to slow his still pounding heart, but it did console him. Dreams meant nothing, and they would stop once he had somewhere warm to sleep. But for now… the sky was still completely dark without a hint of sunrise, and if he was interpreting the moon’s position correctly dawn was hours away. As much as he didn’t want to return to the almost certain terror that waited him the moment he dropped off he knew that without sleep he wouldn’t be able to function properly the next day. He needed to keep working, he was lucky to have found a source of money and losing it would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do. So he reassumed the warmed position of curling his head onto his knees and tried to relax. It took him nearly an hour of trying to think about anything except the beady, reptile eyes of the monsters before his breathing steadied and he finally slept.

* * *

 The sun didn’t wake him the next morning, or the sounds of the first people starting their days. The sun was already overhead by the time a car horn of an irritated driver shook him from his sound sleep. He was shivering and absolutely freezing, but he still grinned as he stood. That had been close to six hours of uninterrupted, dream free rest. He felt like hell, but that was from the cold pavement and the cruel wind, not a paralyzing nightmare.

Not wanting to remove it entirely, the cheerful boy wrapped the warm blanket around his shoulders like a cape as he left the alley and walked towards the bookstore. Breakfast money had gone to cleaning his clothes, but he didn’t mind much. The aliens from the first dream seemed like a world away, and for nearly the first time since waking up on that doorstep he felt ok with the world.

Today was Sunday, so the bookstore didn’t open until nine. A clock outside wall of an empty building told him he had less than ten minutes.

 _Wow. I slept a long time. Is that normal for my age?_ As much as he knew about the way small bits of the world worked, he knew nearly nothing about twelve year old boys. Assuming he was twelve. It was a little strange, sure. But there were unfortunate gaps in his knowledge, as he had already found, so maybe his own specific physical needs were just one of them. He could figure it out.

 _Maybe Maggie’s already here. It opens in almost five minutes, why wouldn’t she be?_ He hesitated outside the door. _Maybe she’d get annoyed if I showed up too early. Should I wait?_

It was decided for him when the first drop of rain fell. Within seconds, the rain had become a downpour.

_Where the hell did this come from? I can still see the sun!_

But cold and wet was not something he could afford tonight, so he pulled the blanket off his back and stuffed it under his coat before knocking on the door. The cold wind felt like a knife on his rapidly dampening skin, and he prayed for Maggie to answer the door.  By the time she did his hair was dripping wet and the coat had stopped letting the water slide off it.

"Shit, Luke, I'm sorry! I didn't know it was you, are you ok? You look freezing." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the mercifully warm shop.

"Y-yeah, a bit." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get the icy water out. He drew his coat closer only to have the dampness soak through and chill him even more. The constant shaking was getting worse, and he felt a heaviness in his breathing that hadn't been there yesterday. A cough lingered in his chest, but he pushed it down. She might not let him stay if he seemed sick.

"C'mon, sit down. How long have you been out there?" He shrugged and followed to the back of the store, peeling of the wet coat. "Blanket's right there, wrap up." She noted the blanket, and the violent shaking as he folded his coat and neatly placed it against the wall. Underneath he still wore nothing but a t-shirt, which, although dry, seemed unusual for November. "It's starting to get really cold. I hear the temperature's going to drop below freezing tonight."

The boy felt his heart nearly stop at her words. Last night had been ok, barely. He still couldn't feel his fingers but his body heat had more or less stayed trapped with him. If it got any colder, though...

His good mood had mostly vanished at this point, and he slumped back as he pulled the blanket over himself.

He opened his mouth to ask for the previous night's temperature, for reference, but the words ticked his throat and he interrupted himself with a choked cough. It set off a violent coughing fit that lasted almost a minute and ended with him gasping for breath through a sore throat.

Maggie was officially worried. Luke was clearly sick, and what kind of parents sent a kid in this condition out? Especially one dressed as poorly as him. With a sigh, she sat herself down on the floor in front of him. He didn't look at her, choosing to stare at his hands while he tried to calm his ragged breathing.

"Luke, are you alright? Really. Don't lie." His only reply was a barely perceptible shrug. "I'm going to go across the street for a minute. Have you eaten today?" He stayed quiet. "I'm going to get drinks, and food if you need it. Tell me, have you eaten?"

He shook his head.

"I'll be back soon, and when I am you need to talk to me. Ok?"

She stood and walked out into the rain, leaving the boy shaking on the floor.

 _I can't tell her I don't know who I am, she'll call a hospital or something. Why does she even care? I'm just some kid who works for her._ He briefly considered running, but a clap of thunder from outside reminded him he had nowhere to go where he wouldn't freeze to death. _If she finds out I don't have a family she'll call the police, and god knows where they'll take me._ He couldn't explain it, but the thought of someone else deciding his fate in such a permanent way terrified him. Alone and on the streets was better than sleeping in a warm place where he had no control.

 _I’ll answer her questions, if I can. If things start going bad, I'll run. If I surprise her I can probably make the street before she can catch me._ Somewhat sadly he folded his blanket. He'd liked it here, and he'd probably screwed it up. _Why did I have to cough?_


	6. Chapter 6

Maggie forgot it was raining until she had already let the door shut behind her. Her blue knit sweater was already getting wet, but she barely noticed. She never really got out much, most of her time was spent alone in the store, so Luke was some of the best companionship she'd had in a while. Even if they didn't talk much it was nice having him there. Seeing him standing there, dripping wet and shaking, had scared her. She had been going to brush it off as him just being cold from the rain, but the clothes and the coughing had been too much.

Running across the street, the woman pushed the glass door open and stepped into the café. The man at the counter started awake. Sundays were slow, and the weather wasn't really helping. "Hello, how can I he-" he stopped when he recognized her. "Maggie, hey. What're you doing over here?" They'd met a few times, owning stores across the street and all.

"Food." She pulled a twenty from her pocket and handed it to him. "A lemonade, a hot chocolate, and the bacon and eggs. To go, please."

"Good to see you too" he mumbled as he punched in the order.

"I'm sorry. I'm kind of stressed."

"Yeah?" he grabbed a cup and poured the drink. "What's up?"

"A… friend of mine. He's sick or something. His name's Luke, he was in here the other day?"

John stopped with the lid halfway on the plastic cup. "That kid working at your store? He was in here yesterday morning. He ok?"

"I don't know. He seems pretty sick, but his parents let him out of the house with nothing but his coat. I guess that means he can't be that bad, but I still figured I'd buy him breakfast."

John grabbed the white to-go container that was slid over the back counter and handed to her. "He was a little strange, don't you think? You finally get a friend, and it's some weird ten year old. Should we worry?" He grinned as he said it, but somehow it still came off as mocking.

"He's twelve." Maggie took the container and drinks, and with a final glare turned and left. She'd never liked going in there much. John got on her nerves sometimes, but it was still the best food within walking distance, so she toughed it out.

She half ran across the street, pulled open the door with her elbow and ducked out of the rain. Luke hadn't moved, thank god. She'd been half afraid he would be gone when she returned.

"I hope you like bacon, i had to guess at what you'd want." He had unwrapped himself from the red blanket, and sat tensely pressed against the wall. His eyes widened when he saw the food, but he stayed put.

She sat back down in front of him and handed him the foam box, watching him as he cautiously opened it. He didn't seem terribly sure about the contents, but he was hungry, and he picked up a slice of bacon to nibble on. She waited for him to finish and try some of the eggs before starting to talk.

You know you're sick, right? Why did your parents let you out like this?" Another shrug. "Do they even know that you're here?" She couldn't see how any responsible would let a kid outside when he could barely breath.

He couldn't respond passively to that. He had spent the last few minutes before her arrival recreating his backstory, and he prayed he hadn't left any holes. "My mother leaves for work really early, I doubt she knows or cares what I do most of the time."

He grabbed another piece of bacon. He hadn't liked the eggs much.

"What time does she get home? What about your dad?"

Maggie's curiosity about the kid was overpowering her usual dislike of people who asked too many questions. Normally she would have annoyed herself by now.

"I don't know. I've never met him. And she gets home late, I'm usually asleep already."

There was silence, interrupted only by the sound of the boy finishing off the last of his breakfast.

"Can I ask where you live?"

"Apartment a few blocks away. The heater's broke, and half the windows, but there's electricity."

That would explain his shaking. And the hunger. If his mother couldn't even afford to heat their house, she doubted food was a constant. Accepting his explanation, Maggie stood and returned to her desk. Luke finished the hot chocolate and started working on relabeling the next stack of books, thankful that she'd believed him.

* * *

It was almost closing time. Business had picked up after the rain stopped, mostly teenagers looking for a last minute book for school. As usual, they had left the shelves in a state of disarray, but Luke had managed to get everything in order. The sunlight had started to darken and the temperature was rapidly dropping. The dark haired boy kept glancing worriedly at the door, dreading the moment he would have to leave the relatively warm store and face the night in the frigid streets.

His nervousness didn't go unnoticed by the woman at the desk. "Luke… are you going to be ok tonight? It's going to get really cold, especially if you don't have heat, and you're already sick."  
He gave his usual response of a noncommittal shrug, but a poorly concealed cough proved her point. Another night in the cold could be disastrous for him.

"Alright, come here." She stood and walked to the far side of the store, where a door was almost concealed behind a shelf. He followed her, curious. She unlocked it and pushed it open, revealing a smallish back room. A dark gray and well-worn couch took up most of one wall. A radio sat on the table beside it, balanced on top of a microwave. At least half the room was taken by boxes of what appeared to be books. "This is… Actually, I'm not really sure what I'd call it. I keep books that need to be labeled or fixed back here, and sometimes I'll hang out after hours." She glanced back at the somewhat confused boy. "Technically, I'm not sure if I can do this, but if you ever need somewhere to sleep out of the cold, I'm going to leave it unlocked for you."

Luke's green eyes were wide and disbelieving at first, but a smile slid across his face as he realized she was serious.

"You have to make sure your mother knows you're safe if you do stay here. I don't want her to freak out." He nodded, trying to keep his smile hidden. "Ok, I can't exactly leave the store unlocked, so here." Slipping past him and back to her desk, Maggie pulled open a drawer to sift through the contents. After several seconds, she emerged with a bright silver key. "Don't you dare lose this. I will hunt you down." She walked back to him and grabbed his limp hand, pushing the key into it. "But I'm not going to let you freeze to death because I'm afraid someone will find it and want to rob a half-broke old bookstore."

"Wow. Thank you." He still seemed slightly shocked, so she let him process while she finished closing up.

It took him less than two minutes to be practically glowing as he helped her clean, and they were quickly done.

By the time they finally left, the air was freezing. Luke wore his coat tightly around himself, but he still shook. As usual, Maggie watched him until he was out of sight, not turning towards her own house until the boy disappeared into the same Wal-Mart as yesterday.

The warmth of the store allowed the pale boy to loosen his coat. His thin face was lit up in a smile. Things were actually going to be ok. He had money for food, a place to sleep, and maybe he could even afford something extra. Ten dollars was a lot of money. He made his way over to the canned food isle, wondering if he should try and buy a new shirt as well. The water bottle from the first day was empty, so he definitely needed a drink, and that left him with about five dollars. Could he get a shirt for that?

Today he chose a can simply labeled 'Soup.' It was the cheapest, and the picture didn't make it look completely awful. A water bottle brought the total up to four dollars, so he wandered into the clothing section of the store. The variety of boy's shirts was astounding, but most of them were above his budget. After sorting through dozens of expensive, pointless patters, he decided on a package of two plain black t-shirts for five dollars. By this time he was used to the process of checking out, and he managed to ignore the strange looks as he accepted his seventeen cents in change. Not for the first time, he wished he looked a little older. As he'd already learned in his three days, life was hard for a kid on their own.

Outside again, he considered returning to the bookstore. He could eat dinner there, and maybe read a while before going to sleep. On the other hand, he still hadn't explored the rest of the street, and he still had a few hours before he would get tired. Clutching the plastic grocery bag tightly, he turned away from the store and walked left. Most of the buildings didn't catch his interest. The bakery he had woken up next to a few days ago, a smoothie shop, an antique store, and more broken down old stands than any street had the right to have. Eventually the weight in his chest made walking too hard, and he settled down on a bench. He pulled the can of soup from his bag and peeled back the lid. It was some sort of meat and vegetables thing, and it wasn't nearly as bad as the plain label suggested. He was nearly finished within ten minutes.

With only a few chunks of beef left, he decided he wasn't really all that hungry. He had eaten three full meals today, which was more than he could remember ever eating before. Casting his eyes around for a trash can, he stood. He walked towards a black bin, and was about to toss the can, when something brushed up against his leg.

Still half concealed by the shadows of the building, a brown cat looked up at him.  _Meow_. It looked up at him, smelling the food in his hands and wanting it. As scrawny as it was, it's blue eyes were endearing and the boy smiled down at it.

"Guess I'm not the only one without a home in this city." He reached his thin fingers into the can and pulled out a piece of meat. "Kinda sucks, doesn't it." Crouching down on the sidewalk, he reached his hand out towards the cat. The rough tongue rubbed his fingertips as the creature licked the last scraps of food off him. "Here, I have more." He crawled over and sat against the wall, reaching into the can for another few scraps. As the cat fed from his hand, he gently reached out to stroke it's fur. It was soft, although he could feel the bones beneath it, and the animal seemed to enjoy it. This continued, the boy petting the cat as it ate from his hand. Even when the can was empty, it remained for several minutes and purred as the child ran his fingers through it's fur. Eventually though, the dropping temperature drove him to stand and walk back towards the bookstore. He had barely gone five steps before a soft meowing stopped him. The cat had remained close to him.

"You can't follow me. I can't help you." He reached down and gently tried to push the cat away. It sat down, and he started walking again. When he reached the Wal-Mart, he turned to make sure it had left. It was less than two steps behind him. "I'm sorry, I really can't keep you with me. Go follow someone else." When the cat continued to stare expectantly at him, he sighed. "You're going to freeze tonight if you don't find somewhere to sleep soon. GO." He turned around and quickly continued, hoping the animal would get the message. He was almost at the store when he glanced behind him again.  _Meow._

"For God's sake… I'm not going to get rid of you, am I." Blue eyes blinked, and the cat seemed to confirm it. The boy groaned, looking around for a solution. When his eyes fell on the bookstore, they lit up. "Stay here, I have an idea."

Digging the key Maggie had given him out of his pocket, he approached the door. His numb, trembling fingers had a difficult time unlocking it but eventually he managed. He slipped inside quickly so the cat wouldn't follow, and ran to the back of the room. Tossing his bag down, he grabbed his own green blanket before returning outside. The brown furred cat had not moved. He walked to the alley beside the bookstore, scanning it for a good spot. He choose a somewhat sheltered niche behind the dumpster, and crouched beside it. The cat, curious, walked over to investigate.

He grabbed a cardboard box from where it had been carelessly tossed and lined it with the blanket. The boy, working from a faint image in his mind of what a cat's bed should look like, carefully folded and twisted the green fabric until it looked comfortable. Turning around and picking up the cat who, surprisingly, did not object, he sat him in the makeshift bed. After a few nudges, the animal seemed satisfied and lay down. A corner of the blanket shifted and fell over it, efficiently covering most of the thin cat. The boy looked at his work, satisfied, and reached down to stroke the cat once more before turning on his heel and walking back to the warm shop.


	7. Chapter 7

_Pain. Horrible, crushing, blinding pain. It was everywhere, it made up his entire world. There was no longer a center to it, it engulfed him completely, and rendered him mute. He could no longer scream, or beg for death, as he had before. It burned through him for what felt like millennia before he finally began to emerge. As it faded, he could feel the individual injuries. His wrists, suspended above his head and pulling his feet from the ground, were searing from the rough metal that dug into them. Every joint screamed under the pressure, every involuntary twitch magnifying it. His back felt as though every scrap of skin had been ripped from it, and the hot air made the exposed flesh burn. He was aware that he was crying, sobbing, and it tore at his throat, already ragged from screaming. But he couldn't stop. Hot blood dripped into his stinging eyes and dribbled down his chin from a gash on his forehead. Sweat stung at the blistered burns on his chest, along with every cut on his pale body. His shoulder, however, was the source of the most intense torment. He could feel the letters branded onto his skin, and although the white-hot metal brand was gone he could still feel it, searing deeper and deeper into his skin. Marking him with the word while a snarling red face had hissed it into his ear. Disgrace. A disgrace to his people, to his family, and to himself. And now he would never forget it._

_The scene shifted, the dungeon and the pain faded and replaced by a cool breeze and a tickle on his legs. He crouched on the middle of a field, a dagger clutched in his hand. Beside him, a teenager with long blonde hair and a red tunic was grinning and holding a short sword. Although he was looking straight ahead, the dream allowed him to see the scene from a distance. His black hair and green shirt were a contrast to his brothers, but the way they moved together as they crawled through the tall grass showed a tight bond. Their footsteps were almost perfectly matched as they approached their target. A huge, hulking beast, at least six feet long and covered in shaggy red fur. The boy he knew to be Thor gestured that they should split up, and the brothers carefully maneuvered until the animal was between them. At a shout from Thor, they leapt from the grass and attacked. The dark haired boy struck first, a glowing green dagger flying from his hand and finding its target directly over the throat. Magic gave it power and it sliced through the heavy fur and thick skin to stick firmly. Roaring, the creature turned on him only to have the other brother attack from behind. Thor missed the neck, instead lodging his blade into the shoulder. The creature was furious, and tossed its horned head in an attempt to dislodge the god clinging to it. "Loki, now!"_

_His brother, with a shimmer of magic, appeared beside the beast and yanked his knife from where it was still stuck in the creature's neck. With the blade gone, blood gushed from the wound. His aim had been perfect. For the terrified animal, this was the last straw. He knew he was going down, but that only fueled his rage as he slammed his fifty pound horned skull into Loki's chest. The smaller boy was tossed backwards as though he weighed nothing, landing with a cry at least fifteen feet away. He immediately curled up, clutching his ribs._

_"Loki!" Thor jumped from his perch on their thrashing prey, narrowly missing it's horns as he ran towards the green form lying in the grass. He fell to his knees beside him, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Brother, are you alright?" Loki groaned, his hands pushed to his chest. Beneath his fingers, green sparks of magic were flickering over his, apparently broken, ribs. His green eyes flickered open to glare at his brother, but immediately they widened in fear._

_"Thor, look out!" Before the older god even had time to turn his head, the injured one threw his hand up towards the heavily bleeding animal charging toward them. A loud crack rang through the otherwise empty field as the creature's neck was snapped by magic. A few more stumbling steps, and it fell._

_"Well, if I'd known you could do that... Loki!" His brother's eyes rolled back in his skull, exhausted from the effort of the spell. The magic healing his chest vanished, the last scraps of his reserves spent. "Damn it, Loki." Thor reached his arms underneath his limp brother, picking him up and standing easily. He walked as carefully as he was capable of, which honestly was still pretty rough._

_"Thor..." The prince mumbled, half conscious._

_"It's alright, brother. Mother will help you when I get you back to camp."_

_"No, that's not-" he cut himself off with a grunt of pain as Thor half jumped over a small stream. "Slow down, you oaf. You're going to kill me before we even get back."_

_The pace slowed, and the jolts of pain from his ribs subsided. The rhythm of his stride was steady, and soon the boy drifted off._

_As the blue sky faded above him, another took its place. This one was cloudy and filled with smoke from the battle below. Explosions dotted the streets far beneath him as an army- his army- fought for control of the city. He stood above it all, watching the chaos, but he felt neither pride nor regret. The voice in the back of his mind that seemed to have so much control over him was whispering, 'finish it. You have an army, use it.'_

_He felt hollow as he reached for his staff to call the rest of his Chitauri army. He just wanted this to be over. His fingers had barely brushed the cold metal, however, when a familiar voice stopped him. "Loki, no."_

_He turned to face the blonde man behind him. "Why?" His voice sounded cold, but inside he was begging._ Please, give me a way to stop this. _Turning dramatically, he spread his arms. "It's too late to stop it now."_

Please, please, help me.

_"It's not too late. We can still fix this."_

_The glowing blue presence in his mind filtered his words, and his desperate laugh came out confidant._

_"Brother, I know you. You may be prone to mischief, but you are not evil."_

_"Oh, Thor. You always did see the best in people." He fought the words with every last bit of will he had left, but they still escaped his lips. His own mind supplied the words, but it wasn't him who uttered them. The last image before the world faded swam hazily before him. A pair of bright, heartbroken blue eyes inches from his own. "Loki, I know you're still in there somewhere. Please, come home."_

* * *

The green eyed boy curled on a couch in the back of a bookstore jerked suddenly awake, a red blanket falling from his shoulder as he sat up. The last words from his dream were ringing in his ears, deafening in the silent room.

"Oh god." he whispered. "I'm Loki."


	8. Chapter 8

The boy sat on the edge of the couch, staring at his hands.  _Loki. The man who killed thousands just last month._ There was some part of his brain that still tried to resist, but even if all the facts hadn't fallen perfectly into place (He had come from seemingly nowhere soon after the god had died, and with his people's magic reincarnating as a child wouldn't be such a far fetched thing. All of his dreams were based on or from the perspective of Loki, and the rush of emotions associated with him were too strong to be brushed off.), he could feel that it was right. The name felt good on his tongue, it felt like  _his._

"Loki." He whispered it aloud, the sound fading quickly into the silence. "Prince of Asgard."

He shivered. He had barely come to terms with his own existence, and now he had to deal with the fact that he was a reincarnated  _god._  Not just a god, either. An evil, chaotic, murdering god of lies. In his shock, his personal memories of Loki from his dreams were irrelevant, and he remembered nothing but the maniacally laughing image from the laundromat magazine.

He knew right away that he could tell no one. He would be labeled as either a criminal or insane, and he couldn't let that happen. Not when things were finally looking up. There was no way he could keep it hidden forever, especially if he grew up to look as much like the other Loki as he did currently. From his first dream of the god's childhood, he knew they were nearly identical. But for now… he had food, and a place to sleep. Maybe he could manage to forget about his half-remembered past, if only for a while.

With this thought to somewhat console him, he stretched himself back out on the threadbare couch and pulled the blanket back over his shivering body. It took what seemed like hours, but eventually he fell back into a restless sleep.

* * *

When Maggie approached the store the next morning, about half an hour before eight, she nearly tripped on a cat lingering by the door.

"Hey there, cutie. What're you doing around here?" It rubbed against her docilely, so she took the risk of reaching down to pet it. "Sorry, I don't have anything for you." Standing, she unlocked the door and slipped quickly in, opening it as little as possible to keep the cat out. Flicking on the light she noticed the absence of the blankets from where they had been stacked by her desk, and she smiled. She walked softly to the back wall to peer into the partially open door. Luke was curled on the couch, his breathing rough but definitely asleep. The lighting was dim, but he seemed to her healthier than before. His face was still strangely pale, but there were hints of pink in his cheeks and he wasn't shivering at all. Maggie backed up slowly, careful not to disturb him. She shouldn't have bothered, as she had barely been sitting at her desk for ten minutes when the bleary eyed boy shuffled out of the small room, trying to hide a yawn.

"Morning, sleepyhead," she said playfully. "You look better."

Luke ran him fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it. "I feel better. Thank you."

He neatly folded the blanket and placed it back by the desk before looking up at Maggie for instructions. He was using all of his mental strength to keep himself from thinking about last night's realization, but a job to do would help tremendously.

A ten dollar bill was pushed over the desk. "I want coffee, get whatever you want."

Thankful, the boy grabbed the money and his coat, which was still folded where he had left it last night, and headed towards the door. Outside, the previous night's gloom had faded to reveal a clear blue sky, which reflected off the frost that still partially covered the windows. He had barely left the building when the cat from last night pushed itself underneath him. He tripped and landed hard on the pavement.  _Meow._

His night out of the cold had put him in a fairly good mood, so he laughed at the animal despite the pain from hitting the ground. "I thought dogs were supposed to be the clingy ones. What kind of cat are you?" He stroked the soft brown fur as he climbed off the sidewalk. "Glad to see you made it through the night ok. Did you like the bed?" Of course, the cat did not respond, so the boy stood and continued towards the cafe. The cat remained by the bookstore.

The cafe was a lot more crowded than it had been previously, and the child had to weave in and out of groups of people in colorful coats sipping coffee. By this time, the ordering was automatic, and he was back outside in a little over five minutes. He wasn't feeling terribly hungry, so he ordered himself a side of bacon and a water. Before reentering the store, he stooped to give the cat a slice of his breakfast. It looked even scrawnier than him, and he couldn't help wanting to feed it.

Back inside, he placed the coffee on Maggie's desk. She was staring intently at her computer, so he took the opportunity to eat as much as he could before she gave him a task.

"Hey, Luke, would you... eh..." She was distracted by something on the screen. "Go- go get one of those boxes from the back room. Any one, doesn't matter. " He reluctantly went, taking his food with him.

The cardboard boxes, completely full of books, were heavy and he ended up having to put the foam container down to attempt to pick one up. He struggled with the weight anyways, dropping it every time he tried to pick it up, often on his own feet.

Several minutes of failure were suddenly interrupted by a crash and a scream from the front room.

* * *

No one was entirely sure where the Chitauri had come from. There had been flashes of light, but no dramatic portals or pillars of lightning. They had just… appeared. Not an army, or any sort of formidable force. Just two.

Of course, this was easily enough to terrify an entire street of people into a screaming mob of pedestrians. The aliens didn't seem to care, speaking softly to each other in a hissing and clicking dialect.

_Where was the trickster seen?_

_Somewhere on this street, is all I was told. We were lucky to get this exact of a location._

This Chitauri in particular had been chosen for his knowledge of the all-tongue. It was unusual for their race to speak it, but on Midgard it could be useful. As it was several seconds later.

They didn't bother to use the door to the coffee shop, instead smashing straight through the glass. The man behind the counter stood, frozen in fear and completely unable to run.

"Human. Do you know the location of the one we seek? Loki, the criminal. Hidden in the form of a midgardian child, he is nearby."

John's mind was completely numb with shock and fear. There were aliens, huge, gray aliens, standing five feet form him. Asking about the man who had invaded New York last month. Or a child version of him, apparently. His thoughts were reeling and confused, but by some miracle they put the pieces together.

"Answer, mortal. He appears as a younger version of the god."

John's tongue finally unfroze enough for him to speak. "Th-there's a boy, h-he showed up a few days ago. Black h-hair, green eyes?"

The Chitauri stepped closer. "Where is he now?"

Finger shaking, the man pointed across the street. Without another word, the creatures turned and left through the hole they had created. John collapsed against the counter the second they were gone.

They were slightly more polite with the bookstore, ripping the door from its hinges instead of tearing though the wall. Although it might have been because of the solid brick building, and not courtesy. The scream from the woman at the desk did not phase them, and they approached menacingly.

"Midgardian, tell us where Loki is and we will leave you unharmed."

Thankfully Maggie got her focus back much quicker than John had, and managed to talk through the terror. "Lo-Loki's dead. For months now. Why are you asking m-me?"

The Chitauri stepped threateningly closer. "I know he is here. The trickster is hiding himself as a child, but he is still dangerous."

"No, there's no Loki here, just…" she trailed off. She had initially assumed they were making some sort of weird mistake, but saying the name out loud, she realized how much it  _did_  sound like Luke. Pictures from news stories and magazines flashed through her head. A man, dressed in green and black, with pale, sharp features and long dark hair. His eyes she had never seen, but she would be willing to bet they were a bright, mischievous green. "…Luke."

The boy chose this moment to poke his head out of the back room. The second he saw the aliens, his legs nearly collapsed out from under him. The only memories he had of the creatures came flashing back. Being dragged from a cell, agony taking his last scraps of pride as he screamed in pain, insults and smacks to the head when he wouldn't walk fast enough. It didn't matter that the memories were only from a dream. They were still his.

He wanted to step backwards, to run and hide, but his legs wouldn't move. They were frozen to the floor, forcing him to watch as the Chitauri stepped closer to Maggie.

"Who is Luke?"

Her response was quiet. She had let this boy in, she had  _liked_ him, he couldn't be the chaotic, ruthless god that had wrecked her city. "The boy… he came here a few days ago, he works here."

As much as she didn't want to believe it, the fact that she was telling the aliens proved that she did.

The Chitauri took that to mean that he was in the shop, and began to search. It took the taller one barely ten seconds before his beady eyes found the frozen boy. The grin that came over his face filled the child with the most intense terror he had ever known.

"Found you, little prince."

It was the voice that finally did it. A young boy can only take so much fear before he overflows, and the overflow was what allowed him to finally take action. He ran backwards as fast as he could, slamming and locking the door. He shoved the box he had been attempting to lift against it, hoping for a few extra seconds with which to work. Nearly throwing himself at the table, he grabbed a pad and pencil he had found the night before and scrawled out a message with trembling hands.

"Come out, runt. There's nowhere to run."

Thank god these creatures had a tendency to play with their prey.

_Maggie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know anything about this before last night. I woke up three days ago on the street, no memories, I swear I didn't mean any harm. I don't know why, or how, but I guess I really am Loki. So sorr_

He threw the paper down as his nightmare finally pulled open the door. "Come on, now. There's someone who's been waiting to see you for quite a while." It grabbed him forcefully by his coat collar and dragged him from the room, forcing him to frantically scramble to try to get his feet on the ground. Everything was spinning, but he managed to lock in on Maggie's face as he was pulled from the room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he passed her. "A note, in th-" a harsh tug cut off his breathing, but he got his message across with a wild gesture towards the recently vacated room. Her eyes as she watched him go were wide, shocked, and slightly betrayed.

Luke (Loki, his mind reminded him) managed to get back on his feet before they reached the sidewalk.  _Meow._

He had decided there was definitely something wrong with that cat. Aliens had violently pulled the door from the frame, and it was still waiting outside.

"You stupid creature, go away."

_Meow_

The Chitauri who wasn't holding the boy turned around and stared at the animal. It took two steps to reach it. He looked at his companion, then gestured to Loki.

"Is this creature yours?"

As dull as the cat seemed to be, it was sweet and he didn't want it to get hurt. "No, he just followed me here. Don't we have somewhere to be?"

The Chitauri were talking in their native language again, but somehow the boy could understand them.

"He is right. Let's go."

There was a split second of relief as his captors turned away, but then-

_Meow._

The smaller alien didn't even turn his head when he snapped his foot back to kick the animal. A sharp cracking of its spine, then almost total silence.

Loki's legs stopped working when he saw the cat fall. The Chitauri didn't seem to care, continuing to drag him across the road, and the horrified boy let the pavement scrape at his coat. Up until now, some part of his mind had been refusing to believe that any of this was happening to him. These things weren't real, they couldn't hurt him. But seeing the small brown cat, lying dead by the gaping doorway, everything hit him. These cruel, bloodthirsty, and probably revenge seeking aliens were taking him to an unknown location. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to protect himself.

The rubber heels of his sneakers dragged along the black road. A cold, scaly hand was wrapping around his throat, trying to tug him to his feet. He tried to ignore it, but it was persistent. Eventually it won, and it pulled him upwards and off the ground. His face was pressed against the golden Chitauri armor, so when the light flashed around them he was not blinded, but the fierce wind that tugged at his coat told him they were moving. Although the boy lay perfectly still in his captor's grip, his mind was in chaos. The pale, dry skin inches from his face was bringing back unwanted memories, and there was no part of him not dreading what he knew was coming in the near future. These creatures had done so much damage to him, internally and externally, and even though the memories were faint they were still his and they still hurt.

There was a heavy thump, and the light vanished. Loki was rudely dropped to the ground, and he felt a terrifyingly familiar rough rock under his fingers. He slowly opened his eyes. The Chitauri home base, while barren and dark, had a sky more breathtaking than Asgard's and he couldn't help but stare. The deep blues and blacks, strewn with swirls of pinks and greens lit up the gray and uneven landscape beneath with a faint glow. The boy's eyes were turned upwards in wonder, but a deep voice from behind him snapped them around so quickly he nearly pulled a muscle in his neck.

"At last, the prince returns."

The boy had thought he had reached his limits long ago for how much fear he was capable of feeling. Now, seeing this face that haunted his nightmares for the first time, he realized he was wrong.

Red, deeply lined skin covered the face of the alien, who grinned menacingly down at him from barely five feet away.

"I told you I would find you. Even with this new illusion, you cannot hide from me. Although, I am impressed by how permanent it seems. I can't even detect the magic, although your soul gives it away." He stepped closer and brushed his huge fingers against the boy's jaw. "You forget, my magic is superior to even yours. The wretched thing that is your essence is distinct. I can see it, even when you clean it off and choose a new form." Loki could say nothing as the alien tilted his head to look him directly in the eyes. "I'm impressed, by the way, with how well you managed to cleanse your soul. Purer, you were difficult to find. Unfortunately for you a trickster god can never quite possess the innocence of a human. You stood out among them."

The child still couldn't move. He would have given anything in that moment to be able to run, or even just cover his face. Thanos' red eyes burned into his own, and they hypnotized him as a snake entrances it's prey before it strikes.

"Do you remember my promise to you, Asgardian? Your freedom for the Tessaract. And I'm not seeing the Tessaract."

He looked away suddenly and stood. "Take him to his room."

The cell from his dreams flashed quickly through his mind as he was yanked upwards.

"We'll finish this later, once you've settled in. And you might as well get comfortable. You're going to be here for quite a long time."

Loki wanted to scream, to protest, to do anything other than let these aliens drag him back into hell, but the part of his brain where his old memories were knew it would only make things worse. A hand latched back around his throat, pushing him forwards and cutting off his air supply. The Chitauri led the small boy across the desolate rock towards a gaping hole in the earth. Inside, there was absolutely no light, and when they had rounded a few corners from the entrance, he was blind. Apparently the Chitauri possessed some adaptation that he did not. The journey seemed to take forever. The tunnels were eerily silent, and the only noise was the scratch of feet on rock and his own loud breathing. He was acutely aware that the only guidance he had in this blackness were the claws digging into the soft skin of his neck.

The whole situation felt surreal. The world around him seemed to fade and vanish, until nothing was left but the rock directly beneath him and the Chitauri hand, guiding him through the void and straight into hell.

But the rest of the world continued to exist, whether or not he could see it, and they eventually stopped. A jingle of keys, and a click. The sound of a stone door pulled open sent chills down the boy's spine. The presence on his neck vanished, and for a moment he stood completely alone in the corridor, before a shove sent him sprawling forward. The rock was smoother where he landed, but the palms of his hands still stung when he threw them out to break his fall. The door shut as he sat up, leaving him truly by himself for the first time. For a moment, it was silent, until a quiet sob drifted from the floor.  _Oh god, they're going to kill me. They're going to torture me and then leave me to die._ He crawled, a habit from his half remembered past visit, until his outstretched hands touched walls. He found himself curled in the same corner be had seen the man ( _that was you_ ) cowering in his dream. Reaching his fingers upwards tentatively, he felt a somewhat corroded pair of cuffs hanging a ways above him. Another sob shuddered through him.  _Why am I here? I didn't do anything, really. I wouldn't have hurt anyone. I hate Loki so much (you hate yourself? Yes.) Why couldn't i have just died when I was supposed to? Why would I be so desperate to live that I would put myself back into this hell?_ He pulled his coat tighter, covering his face in the collar. It still smelled faintly of the chocolate he had spilled on it yesterday morning, which only made him cry harder _. I'm Loki, I know that, and maybe I do deserve this, but don't I even get the memories back I'm going to suffer for? I don't remember making a deal with them, or betraying anyone, I can barely recall the attack on New York. I don't know why I did any of it, either. Maybe I had reasons._ The sight of the burning city from his dreams flashed through his mind.  _Maybe there's nothing that could possibly excuse for what I did, but if I'm going to die it'd be nice to know why._


	9. Chapter 9

Maggie remained at her desk until the men in the black vans showed up. SHIELD, they called themselves. They asked a few questions, which she answered truthfully. They had been the same aliens that had attacked the city last month, they had come for the boy, they had called him Loki, no she hadn't know that was his name. They were leaving when she finally spoke up of her own accord.

"He was sweet."

"I'm sorry?"

"The boy. He was a really sweet kid."

The agent gave her an empty, detached smile. "I'm sure he was. We're sorry about all the trouble, and we'll have this cleaned up by tomorrow." He gestured towards the destroyed door. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The vans had barely pulled away before she stood and walked quickly towards the back room. She refused to believe that Luke had only been using her, and if there was any possibility he'd left something that would prove him innocent she wanted to see it.

The box was still in front of the door, and she had to push it aside to search. She found the note quickly. It had been tossed onto the floor when the alien creature had entered the room, so it was half under the couch. Sitting on the worn cloth seat, Maggie pulled it out to read the surprisingly neat writing.

The words said that he hadn't known anything. The SHIELD agents had told her he was known as the god of lies, and not to believe anything he had said to her, but he couldn't have faked that shaking, or those horrible coughs. And if he really had woken up on the street three days ago, it meant that until the night before that had been where he was sleeping. Shouldn't a god of mischief at least be able to trick and lie his way into a warm place to sleep every night? And then there was the fact that his own army from barely a month ago was taunting him as they took him away. The fear on the boy's face as they had dragged him by had been real.

She stayed on the couch for a long time, staring at the plastic Wal-Mart bag on the floor in front of her.

* * *

_This time it was different. He was still dreaming, he knew that for sure, but it felt off. The scene didn't feel like his own, although he could see himself standing beside the golden haired man he knew to be his brother. It was as if he were watching himself completely outside of his own body and mind. The brothers laughed as they chatted, and Loki walked closer. He had assumed that this was a memory and that he could not affect it, but when he moved into Thor's vision the god stopped talking and turned to look at him._

_"Loki?"_

_The other Loki, the older one, froze as Thor stepped closer to the surprised boy. "It seems my dreams are not staying with their usual pattern; you do not usually interrupt yourself like this."_

_"What do you mean? This is my dream." The child frowned at his brother._

_"If only it were. You did possess the gift of dream walking, you know. If you still lived, I would believe you were simply playing a trick on me." A huge, warm hand reached down and gently ruffled the boy's hair._

Why are my own dreams pretending to not know me?  _He wondered. But when the hand vanished, and he stared up at the sad blue eyes, everything clicked._

_"Oh gods." His vision swam as he the surrealism of being in another's dream struck him. Shaking himself he looked up at his brother. "You're sure this is your dream?"_

_"Yes, quite. Are you alright?" Loki was Loki, dream or not, and he felt concern for this frail version of his baby brother._

_The child took a deep breath. "Thor, I am not a dream." He continued before his brother had a chance to interrupt. "Please don't ask me how, but I really am Loki. I'm still regaining my memories, but I know who I am, and I'm your brother."_

_Had they been awake, Thor would likely have dismissed the mere suggestion of Loki cheating death again, but seeing his brother before him and talking to him in some way that wasn't just another memory was making him long for it to be true. But the memory of seeing him killed only a few months ago forced him to question it. "Even if that were true, why wouldn't I have known about it? Heimdall would have told me if he had seen you alive."_

_"My current location is beyond his sight. I'm in trouble, Thor. I suppose that's why I'm here, actually. "_

_Thor knelt beside him. "Where could you be that is beyond his sight? Are you being shielded?"_

_Loki shuffled his feet. If he really was dream walking, and it would appear that he was, this could be a valuable opportunity for rescue. He just had to play it right. "As far as I know, I am not. I've been taken to a place that the gatekeeper can't see, and I…" he prayed that he would be believed. His being in the Chitauri homeland was suspicious, to say the least. " I was taken by force, Thor. The Chitauri came for me." Even saying it aloud sent a shiver of fear through him._

_"The Chitauri… were those not the creatures that worked for you in New York?"_

_"I don't know. I can barely remember the battle, but from what I do it doesn't seem like they were the ones serving me. I know that they hurt me. And I know they want revenge for my failure now." He looked down at his hands, which were shaking again. He clenched them into fists. This was only a dream, he should be able to control his emotions._

_The blonde man noticed his brother's fear. By this time, no matter how little sense all of this made, he was convinced that this Loki was not a figment of his dreams. He reached out and took his brother's tiny hands in his own huge ones, feeling how cold they were. "Tell me everything."_

_Doing his best to be honest, the boy told the story of the past few days. Thor seemed concerned with the memory loss, but if he was confused by the age change that came with the reincarnation he said nothing. When the story was over, ending with Loki falling asleep in his cell, he pulled his brother into a tight hug._

_"I know nothing more than you about what has happened, but I promise I will do my best to find out. I will get you out of there, just hold on for me. Alright?" The boy nodded. "If this is all true.. I'm so happy to see you alive, brother. I will do anything in my power to help you."_

_Suddenly, there was an out of place sound. Metal against metal, a jangling of keys… The little color that was there drained from the child's face. "They're coming for me."_

_Thor gripped him tightly. Stay strong, Loki. I will rescue you, but you have to stay strong. Ok?"_

_The boy opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Thor vanished._ The light around him evaporated, and all that was left was the darkness of his prison. He quickly wiped tears from his face and turned to face the door that he could hear sliding open. Now that there was hope, he knew he could try and face whatever waited outside.

* * *

Thor awoke in his chambers with the memory of the dream still fresh in his mind. Loki… could it be that his brother was still alive? He wouldn't have put it past him to have arranged a way around death, but when he had last seen him he hadn't seemed like he would have wanted to. He hated to think back to those last few minutes on the balcony, when his brother had, once again, taken his own life. But it was always the first thing on his mind when he thought of his brother. An occurrence that seemed to be happening more and more lately.

With a groan, he rolled himself out of the red canopy bed. First, he had to go to Hiemdall and confirm what Loki had told him. If there were indeed places beyond his sight, then his brother had been alive and dream walking. His dreams rarely changed, and there had never been anything as strange as this before. He had never really been one for learning about that sort of thing. A pair of boots and a tunic mishap later, he was striding purposefully towards the gatekeeper's post.

* * *

"You have a question for me?" As always, Heimdall was several steps ahead of him.

"I do. I wanted to know if there are any places in the universe you cannot see."

Heimdall turned. "Why do you ask?"

There was no point in hiding anything that had happened, yet Thor was hesitant to tell. "I had a strange dream last night. I wish to know if things I saw were possible."

Heimdall paused before replying. "There are worlds beyond my sight. Those not within the nine realms, such as the home of the Chitauri you fought several months past."

_Loki said he was being kept with the Chitauri. Subconsciously or not, I would never have been able to come up with this, it was almost certainly him._ He fought to keep a smile from his face as he bowed his head. "Thank you, that answers my question."

As he returned to the palace, he thought hard about what he had to do. He was almost certain at this point that his brother had visited him in his dreams, and that he was in trouble. He didn't know much about dream walking, but he knew that even Loki couldn't alter his appearance in someone else's dream. Wherever his brother was, however he had escaped death, he was in the form of a child. And judging from the way he had spoken and acted, the change had gone deeper than appearances. The boy that had spoken to him was so much like the brother he remembered from his childhood that it hurt to think about. He had missed that innocent version of his best friend since the destruction of the bifrost, and it had only gotten worse as whatever had happened to him in the void had driven him slowly mad. Now he was not only being offered a chance to have his brother back, but to get him back as he had been before things had gone bad. He had to do everything within his power to make this work.

His next destination was the library. He had to learn everything he possibly could about the Chitauri.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's pretty violent. Harsh words are spoken, people get hurt physically and emotionally. If you don't think you want that, don't read.

He had barely arrived in the Chitauri's realm, and already the sound of his cell door creaking open caused him to flinch and shrink back. Probably a response left over from his previous self's visit.  _Come on. You can do this. Just don't get killed and you'll get out soon._ There was the heavy thump of the Chitauri's feet over the hard rock walking over to him, then a thick hand wrapping around his arm.

"Let's go. You have someone waiting for you. I think you'll recognize him." This was a different Chitauri, and he wasn't speaking English.  _Why can I understand him? Do I know Chitauri?_  He didn't really have time to ponder this, however, as he was yanked upwards and thrust towards the door. Another guard caught him and grabbed his wrists. There was a clank of metal, and he felt unrefined edges scrape his skin as cuffs were snapped around them and roughly tightened. They were tight enough to be uncomfortable, but just barely loose enough to rub against him painfully when he was pulled out the door. The corridor was every bit as unrelentingly black as it had been the day before, and the surreal feeling from before returned. There were no tunnels, just him and this monster and the void.

Of course, this wasn't true, and that became clear as they started moving towards... wherever they were headed.

He almost wanted to ask, but fear of the creatures trumped his natural curiosity. He would find out anyways, he supposed. The trip seemed longer than the previous one, and his sense of direction was telling him they were heading deeper into the labyrinth, away from the exit.

The air was colder down here. Loki was glad for his coat, but worried about whether they would let him keep it. His memories from this place didn't really include him being well clothed. The darkness seemed to be thinning, and if he squinted he could make out a faint glow of light at the end of the corridor. As they got closer, shadows around him started to appear and he could see his hands in front of him. The Chitauri that walked beside him had it's fingers around his throat, and he could see the armor on his arm glinting beside his ear. They rounded the corner, and he was nearly blinded by the first direct light he had seen since going underground. It was coming from a door to his right, and although it was , in reality, fairly dim he had to squint to peer inside. A quick shove, and he stumbled in. The light source was a bulb of energy, floating about seven feet off the ground in the corner of the room, and the young boy couldn't help but stare at it despite the pain in his eyes. Blue and steadily glowing, it was beautiful.

"So, the prince arrives." This was a voice he hadn't heard yet, and he pulled his eyes from the light to look at its owner. A Chitauri, although his polished silver armor was nicer than his guards'. As much as the creatures all looked the same to the child, this one seemed frighteningly familiar. He tried to back up, but the guard behind him pushed him forwards.

"It would appear you remember me. It's good to see that our time together left an affect on you." He crossed the room in two steps, stopping in front of the boy. "Lord Thanos has told me all about your new trick, but rest assured that the age you make yourself appear will have no effect on our sessions. I know the real god of lies, and a childlike exterior cannot hide the blackness I know is in there. Now, I want to see if your new body has any of the marks I left on you. You two, uncuff him." The painful cuffs were unlocked and removed. "Take off your shirt."

The boy didn't move, partially from surprise and partially from fear. The Chitauri made a gruff noise that was probably a sigh.

"Are you going to repeat your exact mistakes over again, runt? Would you like to spend the remainder of your life without a shirt at all?"

Loki's mind flashed back to his dream, seeing himself quivering with bare skin in his cell, and he immediately obeyed the order. He tossed his coat and shirt into the corner, as there didn't seem to be a place to put them. Looking down at his own pale chest, he felt even smaller than before. Every rib showed and he was visibly shaking in the cold air. That plus the huge, armored creatures surrounding him left him feeling extremely vulnerable. He resisted the urge to cross his arms, sensing that the creature would get annoyed. A hand from behind gave him another shove, moving him into the middle of the room where the silver-armoured one could look at him. He circled Loki, making him feel like an animal being sold for slaughter. Leathery fingers brushed his bare back as he was examined.

"Nothing. Not even the slightest scar. All my hard work, and you just erased it. I'm insulted." With another sigh, the alien turned away. "It looks like we'll have to start from scratch."

His features were still strange and mostly unreadable to the boy, but he swore the alien was grinning as he turned back around. His hands were pulled back together, and a different set of cuffs clamped on. These were smoother, but something about the designs carved into them sent a prickle of fear through him. The creature was almost twice his height, and probably four times his weight, so it barely took him any effort to grasp the chain on the handcuffs and lift the boy into the air.

The second his feet left the ground, panic coursed through the child. He had been in this position before, even if he didn't really remember, and he knew the pain the followed. Self preservation gave him strength, and he swung his legs up and kicked out at his captor with all the force in his body. Both feet connected with a partially exposed stomach, knocking the air from the Chitauri and causing him to drop the boy. A twelve year old child is small, but legs are strong and he was terrified.

Of course, there was no way that his momentary victory would help him in any way, as he quickly realized. The only difference was that the attitude of the huge being had changed from mocking to angry.  _Why did I do that…_

He was grabbed and pulled into the air much more roughly than before. He felt a loop in the cuffs hook around something dangling from the low ceiling, and when his captor let go he was hanging almost three feet off the ground.  _Oh my god oh my god he's going to torture me and he's going to kill me before Thor can come for me. I'm going to die right here, hanging somewhere in a Chitauri dungeon. And I don't even know why!"_

He hadn't realized how loud his breathing was, but as the silver-armored Chitauri turned back away he became aware of the sound. It was uneven, and you could hear the heaviness in his chest from whatever sickness he had gotten back on earth. There was an underlying high pitched sound, almost a whimper but not quite. All in all, he sounded pitiful.

"That was a mistake, Asgardian. I have orders to make you pay for your failure, but I might have been gentle at first. You have taken me out of my good mood."

"No, no, no, no, no…" Loki mumbled when he saw the vicious looking blade in the clawed hand. He instinctively twisted away from the approaching creature, but it only made his shoulders scream with the pressure. He probably weighed less than seventy pounds, but that was still a lot of weight to put on his arms alone.

The knife pushed against the clear, ghostly pale skin of his stomach, and the skeletal face of the Chitauri seemed to swim in front of him and take over his entire vision.

"Please… why are you doing this? What did I do?" He knew his voice was cracking, and he knew he sounded desperate, but he didn't care.

The pressure on the blade only increased, and the face lit up in a definite grin. "Is that how you plan to play this, little prince? You are going for ignorance?" The throaty, chocked noise he made was probably a laugh. "Do you expect me to believe that? You are the god of lies, there is not a person here who would trust that innocence act coming from you. If anything, you make my job more interesting. Let's see how quickly I can get you to change your mind about your tactics, hmm?"

His hand was quick, and Loki saw the flash of silver before the pain registered. The cut wasn't deep, it barely got all the way through the skin, but the boy was unprepared and unused to physical pain. He screamed.

"Please, just tell me why!" His words were half sobbing. He had known what was coming, but the stinging and the cool blood trickling down his chest and stomach made it so much more real. He ignored the burning in his shoulders as he pulled back from the blade that pushed again into his chest.

His tormenter ignored him. "You're going to have a hard time here, little prince, if you are already screaming." The blade flashed again, drawing another, deeper, scarlet line from his chest to his shoulder. Loki didn't scream again, but his clenched teeth did a poor job of hiding a cry of pain.

_Why won't he tell me, why wont he stop?_

"Admit it, and maybe it will not be so bad. Stop pretending you do not remember what you did." The knife traced lightly down his torso from his collarbone. "At least say that you remember  _me._  I know I left an impact on you, and no matter how well you erased the scars I know you cannot have forgotten the pain." Another twitch of his wrist, another muffled shout. "Tell me my name, Asgardian, and I'll let you off lightly today."

"I don't know your name." His voice came out angrier than he had meant it to.

"What a surprise, the trickster can't even tell a truth to save his own hide. Whatever form you choose, you are the god of lies, and you always will be. Let's see how far I have to push to make you accept that."

Loki flinched as he raised the knife again, but the Chitauri didn't touch him. Instead, he leaned forward until his beady eyes were inched from the wide green ones. "Everyone knows who you are. Nothing you can ever do will make them forget, so why even bother trying to start a clean slate? It would be better to reconcile yourself to being the evil, twisted creature you are than to continue and pretend to be someone better."

He stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before turning away and placing the knife on the table. The assortment of metal tools that lay there, most of which seemed unsettlingly familiar, sent another jolt of fear through him. He had to get out of this, he had to talk his way into buying time.  _I was the god of lies. Am. Whatever. I should be able to talk my way out of this, right?_ He considered his options. He really didn't know the Chitauri's name, but more denial wouldn't likely get him anywhere good. Fear and pain were clouding his mind, he knew that, but he had to try something.

"Wait. I'm sorry, and I'm not trying to lie to you. It's just been a while. Months." He was hanging from the ceiling by his wrist in an underground alien dungeon, but something about telling the lie calmed him. It was familiar, the way the false words slipped off his tongue, and whether or not he was believed it felt good.

"You are not trying to lie to me? That would be a miracle. I do not believe you could ever forget me, however long it has been." He twisted around to rest his claws on Loki's heart. "You begged for mercy far too much for me to ever believe you could forget the name you were pleading to." He returned to whatever he was doing at the table, leaving five tiny drops of blood where his hand had been.

The truth didn't even occur to the boy as he struggled to fix the situation. "I didn't mean I didn't remember you, I definitely do. It's just that-" He was silenced before he could finish by a hand pressing something up against his mouth. A strip of something firm, which molded its form and latched onto his skin seconds after it touched him. It sealed his lips firmly shut, so he could barely make a sound.

"I won't let your silver tongue distract me today, Laufeyson. My job is to make you regret your failure, and I do not need your voice to confirm my success. I can read your pain in your every movement. In fact… " The hand rose again, this time covering the child's eyes with a slightly softer black strip which similarly molded to his face. "I do not even need to see your eyes."

Blind, mute, and partially immobile, Loki couldn't remember ever feeling more vulnerable. "You should have chosen a sturdier form to hide with. This one will only cause you to feel things more intensely."

He could hear the heavy footsteps, and the sound of something soft being dragged off the stone table. The footsteps circled him, stopping several feet behind him. Terror froze him as the heavy silence filled the room. The few seconds seemed to drag on into an eternity, until a sound that sent his heart plunging into his stomach broke the quiet. The hiss of leather through air. His mind barely had time to recall the sight of his previous self's blood streaked back before the first lash hit and set his skin on fire. He completely disregarded the ache in his shoulders as he violently twisted up away from the brutal sting of the whip, feeling only the agonizing searing of his back that surely had been split wide open. His screams, stopped by the gag, were barely audible although he could feel them trapped in his throat. He would have been crying, he was sure, if it weren't for the strange blindfold.

Pain is a strange thing, in that it can't really be remembered. Times when pain was felt are usually memorable ones, but the actual sensation is almost impossible to accurately recall unless it's currently happening. Loki, who's only memories of real pain were fuzzy at best, had it worse. This hurt him worse than he could have ever imagined anything hurting, and he felt it with the pain tolerance of a young child.

It took a few moments for his arms to tire enough to force him to hang still. His breaths still came in frnatic gasps, but the screams had stopped. Through the chaos in his mond, he heard a dry chuckle. "We're going to need to work on that pain tolerance, little prince."

_Wait, what is he going to-_

Craaaccck

The sound of the leather striking his bare skin reached his ears a split second before the world melted around him in a fiery turmoil of devastating pain. This time he wasn't even given time to stop his screams before the next strike hit. Or before the next, or the next, over and over and over until there was no longer anything in his universe but two feet of shredded skin and a leather whip.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly I feel guilty?? Is anyone even still reading this? If so, I'm so sorry.

"Take his shirt with you. He won't be wanting to wear it, but let him have it anyways."

Loki felt the cool rock beneath him vanish as he was pulled to his feet. His mouth and eyes were free, but the world was still black. Probably because his eyes seemed to be clenched shut. He could feel rough hands trying to drag him forward, but his legs refused to cooperate. Everything was distant, barely perceptible to his foggy senses, except for the fire that someone seemed to have lit on his back. He could definitely feel that. He was vaguely aware of someone lifting him into the air and of the movement that made the burning on his back flare up with every heavy, jolting step. There was no way of knowing how long the journey away from the cold room took, as the boy spent it slipping in and out of consciousness. When the world finally solidified enough for him to get a sense of place, he had been set back on a cold stone floor and there was a door closing a few feet away. There was a pounding in his head, and the pain in his back was almost unbearable.

 _Please, just let me pass out again._ Unfortunately, the world was getting clearer by the second, sharpening the pain and allowing his mind to focus on his situation. If he had learned anything today, it was that he was here for punishment, and no one was going to be gentle about it. The lashes covering the until recently clear skin burned every time he took a breath, so there was no way in hell he was moving. Instead he lay, splayed uncomfortably as he had been left, in the middle of his dark cell.

It took hours for him to finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, his last comforting thought being that at least there was a rescue being planned.  _Please, Thor, hurry._

* * *

_Thor was in the middle of a familiar dream in which he and the warriors three were fighting a particularly vicious group of pillagers when Loki appeared. He knew it was the dream walking version, because when the fight had happened Loki had been bedridden back at the palace. The boy appeared at the edge of the clearing where the battle was taking place. As before, the other figures in the dream froze and faded when he broke away to walk towards his brother. The first thing he noticed was the pain on Loki's face as he leaned against a wooden cottage._

_"Brother, are you alright?" Knowing that he couldn't alter his physical state in someone else's dream, he realized that he would be able to see anything that had happened to him while he was awake. Loki's only reply was a quick headshake. Thor rushed to his side, tilting his brother's head to look him in the face. "What's wrong?"_

_The boy flashed a humorless smile. "My first day with the Chitauri was not exactly welcoming." He winced as he tried to stand up straight. The pain was significantly dulled in the dream, but it still hurt._

_Thor lowered himself onto a knee beside his brother, placing his hand gently on the back of the boy's neck. "What happened?"_

_Loki hesitated, almost unwilling to show weakness at all. But so far he had no truly negative memories of Thor, and he felt nothing but love and trust for his brother. Pulling away from the large hand, he tugged off the black tunic he wore in the dream and turned around. The barely contained gasp of horror confirmed that it was every bit as bad as it had felt when he had been awake._

_"Loki..." Thor's fingers hovered an inch away from the mangled flesh of his brother's back. He could feel the heat pulsing off of it, and he was astonished that the boy was even standing._

_"How long till you can get me out?" The quiet voice was somewhat muffled by the tunic he had pushed his mouth into, but it still startled the thunder god. He gently turned the child around to face him. Familiar green eyes stared at him, wide and scared, pleading for him to tell him everything would be ok. His heart ached knowing he had hardly any good news._

_"I'm trying, Loki, but it's going to be difficult. I do not know where the Chitauri's realm is, nor do I have any way to travel there. I cannot do this alone, but I need to choose my allies carefully there are many in Asgard who would leave you there, or worse, without a second's thought." The fear on his brother's face when he told him rescue was still a ways off hurt more than anything he had felt since the last time he had seen him die. Standing there, with every rib showing through his paper white skin, he looked smaller than Thor could ever remember seeing him. For the first time since Loki had been a baby, he appeared significantly younger than him, and he could feel the urge to protect him getting stronger the longer he looked at him. He resisted the desire to pull him into a hug for fear of causing him further pain, instead reaching up and softly stroking his long black hair._

_"I promise you, I will do anything and everything in my power to get you out of that place as soon as is possible. Just hold tight."_

I can't do this again, every day for who knows how long. I'll kill myself before a week has passed. _The boy felt his eyes start to tear up._ Don't cry, damn it. Don't cry, don't cry...

_Thor saw his brother struggling to hold in his tears, and he felt as though someone had punched him. "I'm so sorry, Loki."_

_His vision was partially obscured as the child stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the much larger man. Maybe he was grateful for someone to rescue him, or maybe he was just desperate for a positive physical touch. Either way, he buried his face into his brother's shoulder and held him tightly. Thor's hands wavered over his brother's back, wanting to return the hug but scared of hurting him._

_"It's all right, Thor. You can touch me. It doesn't hurt so badly when I'm asleep."_

_He did wince when the warm arms eventually, cautiously, press onto his still burning back, but the pain that flared up quickly faded with the rush of comfort that the embrace provided. In his only solid memories, the ones that really felt like his, no one had ever held him like this. It was a dream, so there was still a hazy quality to everything, but both the dreamers felt solid to each other. In Thor's mind, all of the unpleasantness of the past few years faded into the back of his mind, replaced with the memories of the brother he had known before. The brother he had now in his arms. This was the boy he had loved unconditionally for a thousand years, and by some miracle he had been saved and returned to him._

_"Thor, wake up. Heimdall summons you." A man's voice, distant sounding, broke the silence. Loki thought it sounded familiar._

_Thor pulled back suddenly, and cursed._

_"Fandral, you idiot, your sense of timing is as terrible as ever." Around them, the landscape began to fade. Gripping the boy's skeletal hands in his own strong ones, he spoke quickly. "Loki, I swear I will come for you. Don't make anyone angry, don't try and escape on your own unless you're positive it will work, and don't get killed." He didn't want to scare him, but there was no time and he needed to make sure he stayed safe. "Farewell." And Thor was gone, before the child even had a chance to say goodbye._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I'm too lazy to edit this again so it is what it is. Comment if there's anything really bad I should fix.

Thor woke to Fandral roughly shaking him. Angry at being interrupted, he snarled and swatted his friend away.

"I'm sorry for waking you, but Heimdall wanted to see you. And I can't exactly tell him no."

Rolling out of bed, he snatched the shirt handed to him and pulled it over his head.

Fandral leaned against the bedpost to watch as the disgruntled man got tangled in his shirt. "Were you dreaming about Loki?"

He was familiar with many of his friend's dreams, and there was only one thing he could think of that would make him so reluctant to wake up. As well as he hid it from the rest of the kingdom, his friends knew how much he missed his brother.

Thor, who had finally managed to find the correct holes for the arms, looked up at him. "In a way." Before there was time for the somewhat confused god to question his answer, he stood and grabbed his cloak. "Thank you for telling me. I will see you later, in the courtyard as usual?" He left without waiting for an answer, leaving Fandral blinking in shock and somewhat concerned for his friend.

* * *

"You summoned me?"

"I did. Yesterday, you asked me about the realm of the Chitauri. I thought it to be a coincidence, but I now believe it may have something to do with a strange occurrence that happened on Midgard several days ago. While I deemed it unimportant at the time, your strange behavior over the past day has caused me to reconsider that."

Thor frowned and stepped closer. "What was it?"

"There were Chitauri in the city of New York." When Thor angrily began to interrupt, he continued. "There were only two of them, and they left quickly. They took nothing but a nameless child. Things such as this happen more often than you think, and I have learned to ignore them. However your recent interest in the Chitauri led me to believe this may be important. They do not leave their home, wherever it is, often."

The younger man stared at him, speechless. A nameless child, snatched by the Chitauri in the very city where his brother had been killed. "W-what do you know about the boy?" He coughed to cover up his hesitation.

Heimdall looked piercingly at him for a few seconds too long before replying. "I do not usually pay much attention to the individuals of Midgard. There are billions of them. This one managed to briefly catch my attention, however. He came from nowhere, and he had an stronger interest in the recent battle than one would expect from a child with no past."

That was Loki, almost certainly. "Is there anything else you can tell me, about the boy or the incident?"

"If you would like, I could sent you to Midgard to talk to the woman he had befriended. She would know more than I."

Thor considered his options. He could wait until he had a day without plans, possibly leaving Loki to the Chitauri's wrath for longer than he had to, or he could temporarily shirk his responsibilities and go now. It barely took a moment for him to decide. The memory of the terror on his brother's face when he had told him rescue was a ways away reminded him what was important. His brother was, and had always been, priority.

"Open the bifrost."

As the building began to spin, the god realized he didn't know where he was going. "Where do I-"

"I will put you down as close as I can to her as I can. The Chitauri were not careful, you will be able to find the right place. The woman's name is Margaret."

"Thank you." He stepped into the tunnel of light. As he hurled toward Midgard, he wondered what he was hoping to find there. Clues as to where his brother had been taken? Unlikely. If the creatures had revealed that, Heimdall would know.  _You want confirmation that your brother is not lying to you. He is, after all, a trickster._  As much as he wanted to trust Loki, he had always been known for elaborate schemes and this would fit that description perfectly. But he knew his brother, and he knew what he would and would not do for the sake of a plan. If he could talk to someone he had been around, he would be able to tell once and for all what the situation was.

He hit the pavement hard, just managing to keep his balance. Squinting in the white light of a cloudy day, he scanned for signs of an attack. It wasn't difficult to find. The glass front of a store a few dozen yards away was completely shattered, and across the street a door had been ripped from it's hinges. Rubble and broken glass had all been cleared away but the actual damage had yet to be fixed. He started where the destruction was the worst, striding purposefully past a small group of terrified pedestrians. It had been a stressful week for the people who lived and worked on this street.

Thor stepped through the shattered window, deciding that the door was somewhat pointless at the moment, and smiled at the startled woman lying on the floor repairing the smashed tiles. "Hello."

She stared at him for several seconds before calling out hesitantly in the direction of the back room. "John...? There's someone here..."

A tired sounding man's voice replied. "Just a sec."

There was a crashing noise, and an angry curse before a ruffled looking blonde man came staggering from behind the counter. "Can I help-" He stopped when he saw the god standing among the mess of tools and scraps of tile. "Thor..?"

He had forgotten that he would likely be recognized on Midgard after the recent battle, even without his armor. "Yes. I am here looking for someone. A lady by the name of Margaret. Do you know where I might find her?"

John was still staring, somewhat stunned by the appearance of a superhero in his store. After a few seconds, he got his brain working well enough to stutter out a response.

"D-do you mean Maggie? She works across the street…" He lifted his arm in a pitiful attempt at pointing.

"Thank you." Thor nodded politely and carefully stepped back out of the broken window, heading towards the bookstore and leaving the confused man leaning against the counter wondering when his life had gotten so weird.

* * *

A knock against the doorframe woke Maggie from where she had been dozing. Since the door was gone, she had used a spare black curtain to try and block some of the freezing air that insisted on blowing inside, but it really wasn't doing that great of a job. She had fallen asleep curled in the blanket Luke had been using, having had almost no rest the night before. Her voice was rough with sleep when she called out, "Come in."

She nearly fell of her chair in shock when the huge man with the long blonde hair pushed aside the curtain and ducked into her dark shop.

"Hello. I apologize for my sudden appearance, but I promise you it is important. Are you Maggie?"

_Oh my god, I think that's Thor. Why is Thor in my shop, and why didn't I comb my hair this morning?_

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm Maggie."

"My name is Thor, you may know of me. Do you have time to talk?"

Maggie scrambled as discreetly as she could to sit up straight in her chair. "Y-yeah, I know who you are. And I'm not doing anything for a while, as my broken door isn't really attracting customers. Are you here about the aliens?"

"Thank you, and yes, I am. Do you know what the Chitauri were here for?" He walked across the shop in a few steps, coming to stop a few feet from her desk.

"Uh…" Wow, he was pretty. "They were here for the little boy. Luke." She shrugged sadly. "Or Loki, I guess."

Thor's heart nearly skipped a beat when he heard his little brother's name. "Loki?"

The woman sighed. "Yeah. I thought he was a really sweet kid, but they say he was lying to me to keep his identity secret. Although if that's true, I definitely get why. The Chitauri that came for him didn't exactly seem friendly."

The god looked closely at her. "And what do you think? The agents do not know everything. Do you believe he was lying to you, truly?"

Well.." Maggie glanced at the note peeking halfway out of a desk drawer. "I don't want to think he was. And honestly, it wouldn't make sense if he was."

Thor frowned. "How so?"

"He wasn't doing so hot when I saw him. He didn't tell me, exactly, but I'm pretty sure he was sleeping on the streets before I let him stay here, I think he was half starving. I've never seen a kid eat so desperately. And he seemed really sick, I was seriously starting to worry." She ran her fingers through her curls. "Why would a god subject himself to that, even if it was to hide from an enemy? Couldn't he have picked any of a thousand other forms that would let him keep himself warm and fed?"

An expression that almost seemed like pain showed on the man's face. "He was ill?" Loki's injuries hadn't left much room for doubt anyways, now that he thought about it, and this new information dispelled any that remained. His brother would never allow himself to starve when there was another option. Now that he knew for certain that his brother was alive and sincere in everything he had told him, there was more room in his mind to worry about him.

"Well he was coughing and shaking, even after I warmed him up. It's been pretty cold outside lately…" She shifted awkwardly. There was a superhero standing several feet away from her, almost completely without explanation, and it was making her nervous. "Umm, if you don't mind me asking, why are you so interested in him? If he was just hiding, have you come to track him down? Because I honestly have no idea where he is. "

The god leaned against the wall with a quiet sigh. "Loki is my brother, I wish to keep him safe from whatever revenge the man he was working with hopes to exact."

Brother… So Loki had had family.

"He was not lying to you. He honestly had no idea of his identity until very recently. Unfortunately, he is now very much aware and very much in danger."

"So why are you here?" She wasn't entirely asking out of concern. She still wasn't quite over the fact that there was a god in her shop.

"I came to confirm his story. As much as I love my brother, he is one of the most talented liars in the nine realms and his survival seemed to good to be true."

"But..." She wanted to believe the boy had been (more or less) innocent, but she couldn't help but question it. "How do you know he isn't lying to both of us, or faking the sickness?"

Thor shook his head. "There was very little doubt that he was lying to me after I saw his injuries. And while he can convincingly make himself appear ill, he cannot feign hunger anything like what you described. My brother has always had a small appetite, he cannot eat if he does not truly need to."

There were a few second while both of them processed the new information. Maggie broke it, her eyes narrowing as she comprehended what the god had said.

"Wait, after you saw his injuries? I thought he was with the Chitauri."

"Yes. Loki is a naturally powerful magician, I assume that the fear he is feeling allowed him to instinctively cast a simple spell and visit me in my dreams. It is similar to how a frightened human will automatically lash out with strength they were not even aware they possessed. Even when he was in complete control of his abilities and with a thousand years of training, he could not alter his appearance from what it was when he was awake, so yes. I could see his injuries even from my bed in Asgard."

_This can't end well, Maggie. Just tell him what he wants and forget about the whole thing. If he hasn't already gotten him, he doesn't know how. Don't get attached, don't-_

"How badly hurt was he when you saw him?"

_Dammit._

"He was… not in good shape. The Chitauri were not kind to him, but I do not believe they mean to kill him. They did not seem to be the most intelligent of creatures, so there is someone powerful controls them. Someone who, from what I have seen, wants him to suffer."

He smiled sadly and added, "And if I have learned anything about my brother in recent years, it is that he would prefer death over suffering. Whoever this person is, they want to punish him. He will not be killed anytime soon."

When Thor spoke about revenge, she couldn't help herself from picturing the small boy who had fallen asleep on her floor alone somewhere in a cold dungeon, shaking and hurt. Somewhere in her mind she knew that she was probably exaggerating, but the image wouldn't go away.

"So when can you get him out?"

The large man's expression fell when she asked. "I do not know. I have already begun to draw attention to myself with my extra time in the library, but I am no closer to discovering the location of the Chitauri's home. I will continue to pursue every resource I have at my disposal, but I still fear I cannot get to him soon enough."

As much as Maggie didn't want to know, she couldn't help herself from asking. "What happens if you don't?"

"He will die. Whether they eventually kill him or he does it himself, he cannot live like that for long." Thor frowned vacantly at the wall. "I don't know how, or why, but my brother has been given a second chance. I will not let it be in vain." His gaze snapped back to her face, and he nodded farewell. "Thank you for your help. "

"No problem." He turned to go. "Hey-"  _No, no, don't do this to yourself. I swear to god, don't you dare…_

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me if you find him?"

_I hate you._

"Of course. You were kind to Loki when he needed it, we are both grateful."

The red of his tunic disappeared behind the curtain, and Maggie slumped back into her chair. She should have known letting a strange kid into her life would never have ended in anything but trouble.


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Thor vanished from Loki's dream, the landscape began to fade. Blackness seeped into the edges of his mind and filled his dream before a new scene started to appear. Looking down at himself, he saw his own twelve year old body. At least this wasn't a dream of his past adulthood. A heavy green cloak was draped over his shoulders, and his head was bowed. He glanced up to see a man on a throne with and angry look on his face, glaring at him. Odin. My father.

"Loki. This is the third day in a row you have skipped training, and it needs to stop. It is not fit for a prince to spend his time alone with silly magic books."

"But father-"

"Be quiet. When we are done, you will go directly to the courtyard where you will make up for your missed sessions." Seeing the outrage on the boy's face, he added, "All of them. You will stay outside until your instructor feels you have reached the level you should be at."

The woman standing beside the throne (mother, his mind told him) tried to interject. "Odin, it's nearly dark, and you don't want him to miss supper."

The king's mind was already made up, however. "If he misses a meal it is his own fault. He needs to learn what's important. Training in the cold for a while will do him no harm. Perhaps it will even help him."

Loki ducked his head. He knew Odin was referring to his childish dislike of going outside the palace at night. His father was right, he did need to get over it, but he was still dreading the experience.

He slowly turned and shuffled out of the throne room, his father calling something about posture after him.

The entire six hours passed in a matter of minutes, as things do in dreams, but at the same time they seemed to stretch out a century. Every second his muscles ached, begging him to just collapse, but the disappointed face of his father kept him moving. At last, long after the sun had sunk over the horizon, he was allowed to put down his sword and slink back inside, shaking and miserable. The dream sped forward to his bedroom. He lay on the black silk sheets, trying to contain his tears. The all-father had suspended his magic lessons until he was at the level with weapons as his brother was. And everyone who had ever seen the brothers knew that that was something that would never happen. He was good at tricks and spells, not waving bits of metal and running about.

His misery was interrupted by a knock at the door. Loki frowned. It couldn't be a guard with his supper, Odin had made it quite clear that he would not be getting any.

"Loki? Open the door, My hands are full."

Thor. A smile flickered over his exhausted features before he stood shakily to let his brother in.

"Close it quickly, I'm not supposed to be here." Thor had a plate balanced on each hand, and they tottered precariously as he hopped into Loki's bed. "Brought you food. I thought I'd eat too."

He closed the door. "Didn't you already have supper?"

The boy shrugged. "Your point?"

Loki laughed, his aching body nearly forgotten. "Thank you." Even though his brother still seemed several years older than him, he was only his senior by one and they were very close.

Thor talked all through the meal, with only a few interruptions from his quieter brother. When they had finished, Loki thanked him again, but Thor shrugged it off. "You're my brother, I couldn't let you go hungry." He grinned at his brother and reached out to violently shove him off the bed and take his uneaten food before dashing from the room with the empty plates.  
______

Loki awoke suddenly to the sound of his door scraping open. The pain in his back was still dulled by sleep, but he knew the second he moved it would all come rushing back. He braced himself for the inevitable hands that would pull him from the floor. Footsteps entered the cell, but they stopped before they could reach him. To his surprise, he heard the sound of stone sliding across stone, similar to a door opening but quieter. He had been determined to stay still as long as he could, but at the next sound his head turned in shock. Whatever the Chitauri had done, there was now the noise of trickling water coming from the wall.

"Ah, so he is awake."

Damn it.

He couldn't see the alien, but he definitely felt the metal tip of its shoe as it kicked him in the ribs, sending intense flashes of pain into his back. Footsteps left the small room and the door was closed again. Loki's eyes were clenched shut in pain, but as soon as it died down enough for him to function he sat up. He hadn't realized how thirsty he had been, but now that he could hear water he became aware of the dryness and burning in his throat. Blindly reaching towards the sound, his hands came into contact with an edge. Shaking fingers explored this new discovery, and he found a roughly cut hole in the wall, about eight or nine inches wide and two feet high. He tentatively reached his hand inside, only to pull it out quickly when it touched a stream of lukewarm liquid. Why are they giving me water? Don't they want me dead?

He considered that it might be poisoned, but then what would be the point? In the end thirst won out over caution, and he drank four handfuls before he could remind himself to slow down. The gap was big enough for his head, even though his shoulders were too wide, so he washed his hair as best he could. It had been four days since it had last been clean. Once his face and hands were mostly free from dirt and blood, he returned to his corner. Whatever their reasoning for giving him water, he was grateful. The voice in the back of his head was telling him that he should try to clean off his wounds, but they already burned and he didn't think he could take the pain that would come with touching them. Yesterday he had been hurting too badly to attempt to reach for the clothes they had thrown at him, but now he located them and spread the coat on the rock floor to block the sharp edges. The shirt he folded for a pillow.

Thankfully, the air in his cell was much warmer than it had been downstairs, and the shivering in his chest had faded until it was only his hands that shook. His breathing was still heavy, and he was still sniffling, but he didn't feel quite as sick. Aside from being in pain, he was mostly just really hungry. He wondered when, or if, they would feed him. The room was still pitch black, and his eyes showed no chance of adjusting, but the rasping the echoed off the walls whenever he took a breath have him a comforting sense of where he was. It made the void around him seem a little less endless. He kept his hand on the wall behind him. Even though he could see nothing, it helped to know nothing was coming at him from behind. Maybe it was because he had barely existed as he currently was for a few days, but he wasn't too sure how he felt about the dark. He knew how Loki, the old Loki, had felt. After eventually growing out of his childhood fear he had accepted it's usefulness for those who wished to remain unseen, using to his advantage often. But now it didn't feel so much a friend as it did a looming presence. Not as malevolent it had once been but still intimidating. He wished for a light, even if it was only a small glimmer, but the blackness only seemed to grow thicker.

The water had woken him up considerably, putting an end to the numbing sleep. He sat alone with his thoughts until the deafening silence was too much and he felt like his eardrums would burst if he didn't make a little noise. His throat was still raw from screaming, but after a few seconds of humming it cleared enough to produce an acceptable tune. The song wasn't in the tongue he had been used to speaking for the past few days, but he could still understand the meaning. It was an old lullaby. Loki's quiet hum filled the room and banished the silence as he grew more and more confident of the notes. After a few minutes, he added words. His voice was hesitant, and honestly he wasn't very good, but it was a distraction.

"Sefask min sonr, bjalla sitja duna…

Fylla nòtt heil suáss eða sannr.

The song was quiet and comforting, a huge contrast to his current situation. The words made him feel a thousand times more alone than he already did.

Útan gluggr lauss fugl sǫngr,

Kyrr svetn songr sidan barn."

He couldn't remember any more, and silence returned to the cell, even heavier than it had been before. Loneliness and fear were weighing down on him and he felt as though they would crush him. He knew that somewhere out there, he had a brother working for his freedom, but there in the darkness it felt like there was not a single person in the universe who cared for him. Only those who would beat him and throw him away.

He could no longer control the tears he had been holding in, and he clutched his knees to his chest just to have something to hold on to. Pain was shooting like lighting from his back each time a sob shook him, but he hardly cared anymore. Nothing could have possible prepared him for what he had gone though in the past twenty four hours. He had been kidnapped, terrified out of his mind, tortured, and locked up. He was in more pain than he had ever come close to experiencing in his few days of existence and on top of it all he was hungry.

There was no one to hear Loki crying, but the sobs continued nonetheless, only stopping hours later when he cried himself back into an uneasy and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this... two years ago? If anyone wants the translation of the song, I think I could probably dig it up. It's a real nursery rhyme.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old trigger warning for violence directed at a child.

A week passed. Thor's frantic search continued, pushed forward by the fact the Loki's condition worsened exponentially each time they spoke. By the time he had found the first hint of where the Chitauri realm might be, his little brother could no longer stand without pain and Thor was barely spending time outside the library. Loki's torment changed from day to day, his captors creative in the ways they hurt him. They still had yet to feed him, and every rib was visible through his paper-white skin. Bloody gashes and welts ran along most of his torso and arms, and his face was heavily bruised. Thor's friends were noticing that there was something wrong, but he hardly cared anymore. Reputation didn't matter. He needed to rescue his brother.

Loki, for his part, would have given his right arm for a way out of his situation. He had learned to fear the light, flinching whenever he caught a glimpse. Light meant pain, darkness was rest. So when, on his seventh day in the tunnels, a white glow shone under his door, he chocked back a sob of terror and burrowed deeper into the dark corner. Of course it did nothing to impede the Chitauri that grabbed his wrists and hauled him out the door, but instinct made him try. The boy was no longer capable of walking on his own, so his captor slung him over his wide shoulder as he carried him back down into hell. Stomach wounds chaffed against armor with every step, tearing open partially closed gashes and rubbing against already raw skin. His mind was already hazy with pain by the time the reached the tunnels. Not hazy enough, in his opinion. He was still perfectly aware of the searing pain as his wrists were clamped into the cuffs and yanked upwards, digging into the raw, pink flesh exposed by hours of contact. And he was aware of the beady eyes staring into his bloodshot green ones, of the rasping voice that had become the most terrifying thing in his life. Of the words that he hissed into his ear.

"You disappoint me, little prince. I thought you cleverer than this. Your secret has been exposed, no one believes your guise, yet you continue to hide in the form of a weakling child. Not even using your magic to spare yourself pain! You need to accept that this is not you. It never was. Reconcile yourself with the darkness you seem so intent on burying, and perhaps things will be easier for you."

Loki had long since learned that it was best to keep quiet when his tormenter talked of his past self. He now knew, more or less, the reason he was here, but as he still couldn't even try to pretend to recall much more than the Chitauri had told him. There was no way for him to lie his way out of this.

"This is your last chance, Asgardian. Tell me my name, accept who you are, or I will make it so that you never forget that you were stupid enough to think for one moment that you deserved a second chance. Clean slates aren't given to traitors and murderers, Loki."

That was the first time the boy had heard his real name uttered in these dungeons, and it sent a shudder through him.

"No? Then you are an even bigger fool than I originally believed. We'll do it your way, then." He walked to the corner of the room and slid aside a panel in the wall to reveal an oven, or something similar. It had been used earlier in the week, but this time there were no torches propped nearby. Instead in their place, he noticed for the first time, lay a heavy iron rod with another twisted rod fastened to the one end. This rod was thinner, maybe five or six inches long, and curved into what looked like symbols...

His pain fogged mind couldn't read the letters, he had no idea what was happening. It wasn't until the Chitauri thrust the symbols into the fire, and they began to glow hot, that it clicked.

Horror made him momentarily forget the pain, and the creature at the oven laughed to see him writhe in terror. "What, little prince? Have you remembered something you forgot to tell me?"

"No…. No, please... I don't know anything, I've told you... Please... "

"I had hoped we wouldn't have to go through this again. I've never met someone who learns as slowly as you do."

Loki's hoarse throat burned as he pleaded, but he was ignored.

"Whatever I did before, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" His voice jumped up an octave when the the iron was pulled from the coals, glowing pale orange and smoking.

Suspended as he was, there was nothing he could do as the reptilian creature approached him. Blind terror had completely taken over, however, and he twisted wildly to avoid the claws reaching for his arm. "You will come to terms with who you are. You are a traitor, a lying and scheming bastard child of a monster. You betrayed your family and your master. You deserve all if this and more, but you won't even admit to your sins."

"I will, I'm sorry. Please, I am Loki. I'm that Loki too. I betrayed everyone, I betrayed lord Thanos, I'm sorry, I'm- please. I deserve every punishment, just not this... Don't do this…"

Hearing him beg and repent, his tormenter grinned. "Very good, Asgardian. If only I could believe that you believed it, you might have avoided this. As it is, I will make it somewhat more bearable for you. After all, you did make an attempt."

He reached above the shaking boy's head and released the clasp on his cuffs. He tumbled to the stone, crying out as he slammed into the rough surface. "On your knees, or I string you back up."

Trembling violently and with sobs racking his emaciated frame, Loki dragged himself to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain in his leg. He knew he had no way out. Blood flowed from his wrists, rubbed almost clean of skin by his struggling, and dripped from reopened wounds all over his torso. The cold air cooled the blood the second it left his body, and it felt like water trickling over his skin. He focused on it. Anything was better to think about than the sadistic alien currently wrapping his rough fingers around his neck. The iron was close, he could feel the heat on his shoulder. The voice of his nightmares started to speak.

"This could be so much worse. Last time, I left you hanging long after I had finished. This time you will be allowed to rest because you made an attempt at cooperation. But you haven't learned yet what you need to. You must reconcile yourself with the fact that you are a monster, and you always will be." And with those words, he pressed the glowing metal into his bare shoulder.

The first second the brand touched his skin, Loki felt nothing, save for the pressure of the metal bar. Then the pain hit. All at once, it was setting every nerve on or around his shoulder on fire and making him feel as though someone had driven ten acid soaked spikes through him. His spine arched, but the rest of him seemed to be welded in place by the searing metal and remained frozen. Wave after wave of the most excruciating, intense pain he had ever experienced originating from the brand that burned deeper into his flesh with every second. He heard screaming. Was that him?

Then it was gone, along with the hand that he realized had been holding him up. His vision was bright red, but fading quickly to black as he crumpled to the ground. The pain was getting worse with every second. His mind was in chaos, the only solid thought a desperate wish for unconsciousness. Everything was blurring together, the searing in his shoulder the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

The Chitauri guards were summoned in. If the sight of the boy collapsed on the ground affected them, they didn't show it. They only looked to their superior for instruction. He raised his voice over the child's keening to command them to return him to his cell. Loki's cries grew louder when the larger of the two guards picked him up, then stopped suddenly as a hand was pressed to his face. He struggled for a few moments before pain and lack of air caused him to lose consciousness.

The Chitauri were gentler this time as they returned him to his cell, placing his limp body on the floor instead of just tossing him in. Human, Æsir, Jotünn, Chitauri, all species have an instinct to protect children, and although both guards had been working in the tunnels for far too long to be truly protective of anything but themselves, they had never been trained to be cruel.


	15. Chapter 15

That night, Thor's dreams were Loki-free. The panic he felt upon waking made his heart race frantically until he could calm down enough to convince himself it was not as bad as it seemed. His brother was fine. Not dead. Just awake. Or perhaps he needed to rest, or had been too deeply asleep to dream. Maybe you were wrong, said the voice in the back of his mind. They did not want him alive as badly as you believed, and now they've killed him.

No. He refused to believe that. Tomorrow, Loki would be back. And, he decided, he would have good news for him when he did. Swinging his legs out of bed, he reached for his clothes. Once dressed, he headed immediately to the library. His books were just as he had left them, all the lore on Chitauri spread across a large table.

Used to being completely alone while reading (the library was not a popular place among most Asgardians), Thor didn't notice the other presence until a hand gently stroked his hair. The god nearly fell from his chair as he turned quickly. "Mother!"

Frigga smiled down at him, her fingers still running through his uncombed hair. "Good morning, Thor. What are you reading about?"

"Er- nothing of importance."

Like any good mother, Frigga ignored his attempts to lose her interest and leaned over to look at the page he had been examining. She frowned in confusion. "Chitauri?"

Thor had never been very good at excuses. Loki had always had his back when they were children, so he had never had any need for the talent. When he didn't respond, his mother sighed softly and took the seat beside him. "You've been spending a lot of time here for someone doing nothing important. Your friends worry about you. I know you better than you think I do, and I can tell when something is troubling you. These past few days you have been more distracted than you have been in years. I could help you, you know. You only have to tell me what's wrong."

He avoided her concerned gaze. I can't tell her… can I? He knew why he was keeping Loki a secret. Loki was still viewed as a traitor in Asgard, even after his death, and if anyone even suspected he had faked his death any hope of rescue would vanish. But Frigga had always loved Loki, almost more so than him. They had been very close, perhaps she would understand. And it had been difficult, having to keep such big news all to himself.

"Can you promise me you will not tell another soul?"

"Of course I can." She leaned closer, frowning slightly with worry.

Thor took a deep breath. He was making the right choice. "You know of how Loki killed hi-" his voice caught in his throat. "-died in the recent battle, correct?" She nodded. "I do not know the details yet, so please don't ask, but somehow… he survived." His mother's eyes widened in shock.

"He is alive? Where is he?" Before he could answer, her eyes jumped back to the books, where a page detailing the preferred habitat of the Chitauri was still open. Every bit as clever as her younger son, she understood the situation almost immediately. "The Chitauri were the creatures he worked alongside on Midgard, weren't they?"

"They were. From what he tells me, they now want revenge for his failure there."

"But why have they not killed him then? If they wan- did you say you spoke with him?"

"Aye. He has been dream walking. I do not think he means to, or even knew he could." When Frigga looked confused, he remembered she knew nothing of his odd transformation. "When I say he has returned... He is not exactly as he was. I do not know why, but he has been changed."

"Changed how?"

Thor hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Whatever magic brought him back has turned him back to the innocent boy he was… before things started going wrong. He is just as I knew him as a child." The god reached out to grab his mother's hand, desperate for her to understand. "I swear, Mother, he is not the same man who killed those people on Midgard. He deserves to be given second chance."

Frigga's blue eyes stared at him, shocked. Her voice was nearly a whisper when she asked, "He is truly alive? For certain?"

He smiled. "Yes. That is why I have been in here so often. I'm trying to find him, so that I can bring him home." He glanced down at his books and his smile faltered. "The search isn't going as well as I'd hoped, however. There is only so much I can get from these books."

Frigga brushed her fingers over the pages of a book, thinking. "It will be difficult, but..." she stood quickly. "I have an old friend who may know something about this. It's been years since we've spoken, but she may be willing to help." Resting her hand on Thor's shoulder, she said, "I will try to find her. But you've been shirking your duties all week, and any more and your father may start getting involved. Go outside. Interact with other people. I promise a few less hours spent in the library will not harm your brother." With that, she turned and walked calmly from the room.

Thor stayed at the table for several minutes, thinking about their conversation, before tidying up the mess of books and leaving to go find his friends.  
\-----------  
When Loki awoke, he nearly forgot where he was for a few moments. Then, of course, everything came rushing back along with a wave of agony as he shifted on the floor. With no one to hear him, he didn't bother to try to hide his whimpers as the first jolt of pain faded. He lay perfectly still, praying a lack of movement would make it stop. The words in his shoulder burned as if there were still a red hot iron bar pressing into his skin, but on the bright side it made his other injuries seem less painful by comparison. He stayed frozen on the ground, but the searing barely faded. Finally, the sound of trickling water became too much of a draw. He slowly pulled himself up, biting his lip to hold in a scream, and blindly dragged himself towards the noise.

His shoulder bumped against the side of the opening as he approached, causing another shock of pain to shoot down his back, but he kept leaning forward until he felt cool water pour over the back of his head. A small part of him was wondering at the temperature change, but mostly he was focusing on how good it felt. Despite the tremors in his chest, he was feeing hot. The water trickled through his hair and down his face, mingling with dried tears and soothing his burning eyes. He crouched there on his hands and knees for what felt like hours until the ache in his wrist forced him to sit up. He spread his leg in front of him to avoid sitting on the sharp pain in his calf, and leaned sideways against the wall on his non-branded shoulder. Tenderly feeling his wrist, he found it to be swollen and sore. He held it under the cool water, which helped, and soon he could move the joint enough to cup his hands together so he could drink. His throat was raw from screams, and the water felt like heaven.

His head was pounding and his stomach ached with hunger as he leaned against the wall. He had no way of measuring time down here, but he would guess it had been at least a week since his last meal. How long could he last? He was getting weaker every day, but he really didn't know how long it would take him to starve to death. Honestly, he didn't even know what species he was, so any knowledge he did have on the subject was worthless. Human, and he would be dead by now, Æsir, and the injuries from his first week would have healed, Jotünn and he wouldn't be feeling so cold. He slumped forward so that his head rested on the one knee tucked to his chest, tugging painfully at the skin on his back. How much longer would he be trapped here? He didn't think he could take another beating, but he knew if Thor didn't help him soon then he would have to.

Loki sat perfectly still, listening to the darkness around him. The gentle rushing of water to his left was a steady background noise to the silence that permeated the chamber, but the complete lack of other sounds felt like it was pressing down on him. He sat perfectly still, focusing on the rasping sound of his breathing instead of the emptiness. Sitting like this, not moving at all except for the rising and falling of his back as he breathed, the pain began to fade. Not enough so that it no longer hurt, but enough so his mind could wander. Unfortunately, he didn't have much to think about besides the misery that had been the past week. Memories had been seeping back through a combination of torture and dreams, but most of them weren't anything cheerful. Aside from the six or seven dreams of his childhood and his nightly visits from Thor, his flashbacks were composed of the nightmarish things he had done and past torments from Thanos and the Chitauri. He had gathered that an attempted suicide had sent him here the first time (The smartest thing he had ever done, his tormenter had hissed. Realizing you didn't deserve to live. Pity you couldn't even accomplish that.), and years of torture had somehow ended with him trying to take over Midgard at Thanos' orders. The details were blurred, and unfortunately it was details that were required of him. Every day, he had been promised the pain would stop if only he could supply a few small facts about past events that would force him to accept he was Loki. Somehow nothing else would convince them he was truly cooperating.

Thinking about his situation, he could feel tears prickling in his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, trying to force them back, but a small sound from outside froze the air in his throat. Footsteps.

"No.." The whisper escaped him before he could stop it, but the soft sound of his voice was covered by the clanking of keys as the Chitauri began to unlock his cell. He saw the white light from their lamp flood the chamber as the door slid open, and he buried his face against his knees to block it out. He heard heavy footsteps cross the chamber. Tensing up despite the pain in his torso, he prepared for the familiar rough hands to grab him and wrench him upwards. They stopped beside him, and... Nothing. He remained perfectly still, petrified with fear, but the Chitauri didn't touch him. There were a few long seconds of silence before a low, reptilian voice spoke.

"Lord Thanos wishes to see you. You will come with us." Loki looked up cautiously to see a large Chitauri holding a set of open handcuffs. "If you cooperate, we won't hurt you."

At this point, he would take any chance to avoid pain. He lifted his shaking arm towards the alien, wincing when the metal cuffs clicked shut over the remaining skin on his wrists. A gentle tug prompted him to stand. Crawling to his knees, he whimpered at the pain that shot from his leg and back. He couldn't hold back a louder cry when he stood, the stabbing pain in his lower leg flaring up worse than before. The Chitauri didn't react and as soon as he was upright it pulled him forward. He limped ahead as best he could, his breath hitching every time his injured leg touched the ground. They stepped outside, but to his surprise they didn't turn left as usual. Instead, the Chitauri not holding his cuffs turned back into his cell and emerged several seconds later with his coat. He then turned, locked the door behind him, and switched off the lamp as he always did. Loki didn't have much time to worry about the new development, having to focus all his attention on keeping his weight off of his leg as much as possible as the Chitauri turned left and started leading him up the slope of the hallway. If his first trip into the tunnels had seemed long, the walk back up was worse. Horrible spikes of pain shot through his leg with every step, not to mention the burning and stinging on his back. He felt like he'd been hobbling along in the dark for hours when at last the glow from the stars was visible around a curve in the corridor.

"Stop here." Loki nearly tripped as the Chitauri leading him came to a halt. The starlight from outside was dim, but he could see the outline of the two hulking creatures, and the faint shine of the cuffs around his wrists as they were pulled up and unlocked. He looked questioningly up at the alien. As far as he could tell, they hadn't reached their destination.

The hissing voice spoke as his coat was thrust into his hands. "Put it on. Make yourself presentable."

"Why?" The question was out before he could stop himself, and he immediately braced for a blow. To his surprise, none came, although his question was ignored. Loki decided it didn't matter why they wanted him in the coat, if it meant he wasn't going to be hit. The material rubbed painfully over his skin as he slid it over his arms, and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out when it touched his battered back.

Once the stinging stopped enough for him to move, he reached up to run his fingers through his damp hair. Despite the fact that he had done his best to rinse it out, there were still clumps of blood and dirt and it took him a few minutes to comb it into a state that he hoped was acceptable. When he'd finished he looked up at the dark outline of the Chitauri.

The handcuffs were snapped back on, and their trek continued around the corner and out onto the surface of the rocky Chitauri homeland. The brilliant stars illuminated the shadowy landscape as they moved farther from the tunnel, and Loki couldn't stop his eyes from wandering over the rocks in search of anything that would indicate circulation. For the most part, there were just more tunnels. He could see them dotting the landscape, their dark entrances swallowing up the sky's light like black holes. In the distance he spotted a few Chitauri pulling something along on wheels, but aside from that they appeared to be the only life on the surface.

A light tap to the side of Loki's head brought his gaze forward. Up ahead of them, on a raised platform of rock so large that Loki couldn't believe he hadn't immediately seen it, was a black throne surrounded by several Chitauri guards. Perched on top, a slight smirk on his face, Thanos sat. His heart was beating so fast he felt as though it might just push it's way out if his chest as they approached the platform. Loki pulled back slightly against his bound wrists, forgetting in his fear the pointlessness of resisting. A hand on his back shoved him forward up the stone steps and towards Thanos, his brief struggle meaning nothing to them.

"Come here, Loki." The deep voice from the throne sent a shiver of terror through him. Even though the creature in front of him had not been the one to personally torture him, the horrific dreams he'd had of him were enough to cause the shaking that was rapidly taking over his body. It took every bit of willpower in him to force himself to limp a few steps closer to the throne. "Closer..." The boy was nearly frozen from fear, but he managed to hobble forward until he was barely five feet from the god.

"I can see my orders have been carried out. How have you enjoyed your time here?"

Loki stared wide-eyed up at him, fear freezing his tongue and rendering him unable to respond.

"I thought as much." He looked down at the little boy, surveying him. Loki could almost feel his gaze burning into him, despite the fact that his own eyes were firmly directed at the ground. The silence dragged on, neither saying anything, until a hoarse voice broke it with a quiet plea.

"Please, just let me go... I swear I've learned my lesson. I know who I am, I'm sorry for what I did-"  
His voice cracked and he stopped talking. He wasn't going to cry. Not here. There was nothing but more silence from Thanos, and he braced himself for the punishment he knew would come for speaking without being told to. Instead, he got a reply.

"I know."  
"W-what?" He looked up, confused."

"I know you're sorry. After all, it doesn't really feel like it was you who committed those terrible crimes. You cannot understand how anyone could do something so abhorrent. But you have the memories, you feel responsible... As you should."

Loki's voice was slightly higher in pitch when he stuttered out, "but you said, he told me..." His cuffed hands moved to his shoulder, the word burned there running through his mind. "W-what do you mean it wasn't me? Aren't I Loki?"

Thanos' bright eyes seemed to burn into the little boy as he grinned down at him. "You are. There's no need for you to know more, but I will tell you that much."

Loki opened his mouth to reply, momentarily forgetting his fear in his confusion, but no fitting words came to him.

There was a brief moment of silence before Thanos continued. "Do you remember how you died?" Loki gave a small nod. "Then you remember your betrayal. You may not have much time left, but I want you to spend it knowing that everything that has occurred did so because you decided you could betray me and escape unscathed. The pain, the death, this is all because of you. And I want you to die knowing it."

Thanos gave him one last chilling smile before signaling his guards.

"Have fun in hell, Loki. Give my regards to Death."

The boy could do nothing more than state at him in horror as the Chitauri guards walked up behind him and pulled him back from the throne. Honestly, he'd known he was going to be killed, it had been clear to him from the first time he'd been called a traitor (he could remember enough of Asgard to know that traitors to the throne were executed, and he could only assume that was how it was done everywhere else). But somehow, he'd never pictured it quite like this. So... casual. This didn't feel like execution, this felt as though he was a misbehaved dog being sent behind the stables to be shot.

Fear hadn't quite set in yet, but as the Chitauri led him back towards the dark tunnels he could feel the beginnings of it start to seep into his mind. Thanos had given no specifications for how he was to be killed, and he had a suspicion that if the decision was left to the Chitauri in charge of his punishment it wouldn't be a quick death.

More time for a rescue, the optimistic part of him offered. But he knew at this point, rescue was almost certainly not going to happen. Thor hadn't been able to make it in time, and there was nothing he could really do to change that.


	16. Chapter 16

Loki felt a cold fear take wrap itself around his heart as they descended back into the darkness of the tunnels. The Chitauri led him through the black, towards the cold dungeons where his death waited in some form for him. It wasn't so much the thought that he was going to die that scared him, after all, he'd been dead before, but the method that his tormentor would choose for him. It was clear to the boy that the Chitauri enjoyed his job immensely, and had taken unnatural amounts of pleasure from their past week together.

The trip seemed shorter than it had before to the boy, and the white lights from the dungeon became visible long before he was ready. He braced himself as they approached the last turn of their journey, but right before they reached the corner a clawed hand on his shoulder pulled him to a stop. Loki automatically looked up in the direction of the Chitauri on his left, despite the fact that he couldn't see anything behind him. There was a moment of silence before a reptilian voice spoke.

"You must stay strong in there, little prince. Help is coming, but they cannot save you if you are dead."

The words were spoken so softly that, for a moment, Loki wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. "W-what? Why-"

His question was cut off by a clawed hand pressing itself tightly against his mouth. "There is no time. All you need to know is that you must hold on for a little longer, no matter how hard it may be." There was a slight pause, before the creature added, "good luck, Odinson. The hand vanished from his mouth, returning to his back to push him forward and into the much more brightly lit tunnel. Above him, he could hear the Chitauri speaking, in their native language this time.

"What did you tell him?"

"A few words of comfort. He is in for several difficult last hours."

Loki's confusion was shoved to the back of his mind as they approached the door. The familiar white light flooding from the entrance meant pain for him, and the sight of it filled him with a terror he couldn't control and that drove every other emotions temporarily away. The Chitauri had to push him forward, as his legs decided they no longer wanted to move, until he stood before his hulking tormenter from the past week. He was aware of the fact that he was shaking and he prayed that his oversized coat was covering him well enough so no one could tell. It might be stupid, but he still didn't want to show weakness in front of his captors. The words of the Chitauri echoed through his mind as he felt beady, gleeful eyes look him over. _"Stay strong. Help is coming." ___

__His thoughts were interrupted by the creature in front of him. "Well, Loki, it seems our time together is finally coming to a close. It has been fun, I'll admit, but you likely would not have lasted much longer anyways." He signaled to the guards to lift his cuffs to their hook near the ceiling. His coat was forcefully pulled off, revealing his thin and shivering chest. Loki knew better than to struggle, even as his joints screamed and the metal dug into his raw wrists. He only let a soft whimper escape, quiet enough to escape the Chitauri's notice._ _

__The one in charge sighed as he scanned Loki. "I only wished I had more time to finish you, little prince. As it is I have other duties to attend to and so only have a few hours."_ _

__Hours. He would be subjected to hours of torment before he would be rescued. Or killed, he thought cynically._ _

__In front of him, the grinning alien turned to face the boy, a familiar stip of leather in his hands. "Now," he hissed, "let us begin."_ _


	17. Chapter 17

Thor was shaken awake from his second Loki-free night in a row by a pair of slim hands.

"Thor, wake up. We need to go now."

He raised his head, and blinked sleepily at the shadowy figure above him. It took him a moment to process the voice. "Mother?"

The blankets were pulled off of him and a bundle of fabric thrust into his hands. "If you want to see your brother again, you will do exactly as I say without question. Time is running short, we must move quickly." The lamp by his bedside flickered on, illuminating the tired looking face of his mother. He was immediately alert, jumping out of bed and dressing as quickly as he could.

"Did you find him? Where is he? How-"

"Quiet, I will explain on the way. Follow me, and stay silent." She turned and left without another word. Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, Thor followed.

The halls of the palace were silent, save for the hurried sounds of their feet. Thor was bursting with questions, but he knew better than to disobey his mother, so he kept them in. They still pestered him, though. Where were they going, and why now? Had Frigga's friend found his brother? Was he in immediate danger? Judging from her urgent attitude, he could only assume that Loki was alive and that a rescue was taking place.

They exited the palace and emerged in a garden. The prince had to move quickly to keep up with Frigga as they headed down the steep path that he knew from experience lead to a narrow beach. The path was unkempt, and he had to dodge rocks and trees as he followed her. The trek took under ten minutes, and when he arrived at the foot of the hill he found, to his surprise, a small boat waiting in the water with Frigga already climbing in. She beckoned to him before turning to quietly speak to the second figure.

"…less than two hours." Thor caught the last few words of their conversation as he climbed unsteadily into the small boat. Despite his mother's orders to keep silent, he couldn't help himself from butting in.

"Two hours for what?"

The figure turned to look at him. Now that he was closer, he could make out the face of a woman beneath the hood of the cloak. She was much older than his mother, although she shared the same bright blue eyes and fair hair. She nodded her head in respect to Thor. "Your Highness. It is an honor to meet you."

He imitated her gesture. "Likewise. Now what did you mean by two hours?"

A smile flickered across her face at his demanding tone before fading into a more somber expression. "That is the amount of time we have to locate your brother. I have a source within the Chitauri realm, and I learned earlier today that the prince's execution is to be tonight. There was no exact time, only that it would take place soon after midnight. And that..." she glanced up at the sky. "Happens to be slightly under two hours from now."

The boat had begun to move and was rapidly picking up speed. Thor turned to look in the direction they were heading in, but he saw nothing but the gleaming black sea and a few small islands of rock that jutted out of it's surface. It was one of these that they seemed to be heading directly towards, despite the fact that it could be no more than five or six feet across. He turned to his mother in confusion. "Where are we going?"

Without looking up, she nodded towards the island. The gateways between worlds are well hidden. Why do you think it took so long to find?"

They slowed as they approached the island, but the boat still lurched as they scraped up against the shore. Unfazed by the movement, the cloaked woman stood and walked over to Thor. "Here, Odinson. Take this. It will light your way through the gateway. We do not know how long the passage will be, but it is unlikely there will be any light, and you need to move as quickly as possible." Her hands were stronger than he would have expected as she shoved something small and cold into his hands and pushed him towards the end of the boat. He stumbled slightly, nearly falling into the water, before regaining his balance to step towards his mother.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug. "Bring him back to me. Preferably in one piece." She was trying to keep her tone light, but Thor could hear the fear underneath.

"I will."

He stepped off the boat as the woman spoke again. "There will be a guide waiting for you at the other end of the gateway. If he is not there, wait for him. I don't care how long it takes for him to get there. You have no chance of surviving in those tunnels alone, much less of finding your brother in time."

Thor nodded in understanding, and with one last look back at his mother stepped forward into the shadows of the gateway tunnel.  
Thor was plunged into almost complete darkness before he had gone three feet into the tunnel. He fumbled with the small metal sphere that had been thrust into his hands moments before, hoping it would provide him with some sort of light. His finger brushed a switch, and with a faint click and a soft humming noise the object jumped from his grasp and began to glow.

Thor couldn't help a smile as he watched it float in the air before him. He hadn't seen one of these for a long time, not since he had been a young boy. A type of lantern, nowadays too outdated to find almost anywhere in Asgard, that he and Loki had often employed in their childhood adventures. It's light grew stronger with every passing moment, and he could now cast his gaze forward to look ahead into the tunnel. Rocky, and with a floor so uneven it could barely pass for a path, the gateway stretched out ahead of him as far as the light reached. Most likely much farther. Thor's mind flashed to his brother, and to his time limit. Praying he could make it to the other side of the dark and treacherous tunnel in time, he started picking his way through the rocks with the little light floating over his shoulder.

It was over an hour and a half later when Thor, tired and considerably more scratched up, emerged from the tunnel into the relatively well made Chitauri passageway. He barely had time to glance around before a clawed hand shot from the shadows and grabbed his lantern from the air, clicking it off and immersing them into blackness. Before he had time to reach for Mjölnir, a reptilian voice hissed angrily at him.

"You idiot, are you trying to get us both caught? Your light could be seen from a mile away."

Thor had forgotten about the guard that was to be waiting for him. Somehow, despite knowing exactly where he had been going, he hadn't been expecting their ally to be a Chitauri and couldn't help feeling somewhat repulsed by the creature standing feet away from him. He pushed down his feelings, however, knowing that however much he disliked the alien, Loki would die without his help. Even knowing this, he couldn't help a shudder when a scaly hand reached out of the darkness to wrap around his wrist.

"You are late, I have been waiting. When I left, the prince was still alive, but you can only pray that he has stayed that way. " The hand began pulling him forward, and it took every ounce of his courage to trust it to lead him through the tunnel.

"You are sure he was alive?" He spoke partially to reassure himself and partially to distract from the feeling of claws on his skin.

"He was certainly alive enough to scream."

After that, Thor decided it would be best to stop talking.

At last, after what felt like a century to the god, a faint light began to appear at the end of the passageway.

"We are almost there. Your brother is in the room around this corner." Thor immediately began to speed up, but the Chitauri held him back. "Wait. I do not know if he is alone in there, let me check before you go in."

"If there is anyone there, I can take care of them." Mjölnir was in his hand as he pulled himself from the Chitauri's grasp and strode towards the white light.

After the complete dark of the tunnels he was nearly blinded as he rounded the corner, but he continued walking quickly towards the source. When he reached the doorway, the bright light stopped him in his tracks and forced him to let his eyes adjust. It took a moment, but once he could see again he noticed two things. One, there was only one figure in the room. Two, that figure was his brother, hanging bloody and limp from the ceiling.

\-------------

A person can only fight for so long before they hit a point where they no longer care, and the young boy hanging in the Chitauri dungeon had reached it. For the last few hours, he'd clutched to the thought of rescue with every ounce of strength he had, but now that promise was looking less and less likely to be kept with each passing second. He wasn't entirely sure when the actual blows has stopped- the pain had been too acute to think until long after he'd been left alone- but he did know that even without them he was going to die. He could feel the life leaving him as surely as he felt the blood dripping from the gaping wound in his stomach, and he'd lost the will to try and hold on to it. After all, death couldn't be worse than staying here.

He focused on this thought, trying to distract himself from the unrelenting pain with the knowledge that it would be over soon.

Then suddenly he wasn't alone anymore. He wasn't sure what alerted him, as his face was swollen and bruised to the point where he could see nothing but the bright, white light of the lamp, but he was sure there was someone standing behind him. He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't make himself move. The presence, whoever or whatever it was, moved closer. Loki barely had the energy to be scared anymore, but he managed it anyways. Then fingers were pressing against his neck. The boy tried to pull away, terrified that his tormenter had come back to prolong his suffering a little more, until something different about the touch registered in his clouded mind. The fingers were cold, sure, but they weren't the scaly claws of a Chitauri. They were soft, and the way they pressed against his weak pulse wasn't threatening. But if it wasn't one of those creatures touching him, then...

"I'm so sorry, brother. This should not have happened."

"Thor?" He was barely comprehensible, speaking through a split lip and the blood in his mouth.

"I'm here to take you home, Loki. It's going to be ok." Strong hands were picking him up, relieving the horrible pressure from his shoulders and wrists as his cuffs were pulled from the ceiling hook. The relief was short lived, however, as the second he tried to move his arm he was reminded of the damage. He tried to muffle his cry of pain, with limited success.

"What's wrong?" Thor internally berated himself the second the words left his mouth. He already knew the answer, what was wrong with him was that he was dying. He didn't expect Loki to answer, but to his surprise a mumbling voice spoke up.

"Can't move my shoulder..."

A quick glance at the offending joint was all it took for Thor to realize it was dislocated. He was no healer, and so was reluctant to attempt to fix it from fear of doing further harm, but he knew that if left alone it would almost certainly be damaged permanently. With a quiet sigh and a glance over his shoulder, the god lowered himself to his knees. "This will hurt. If at all possible, it would be he best if you did not cry out."

Loki nodded, gritting his teeth. "I can take it."

Thor felt a soft pang in his chest at his brother's words, but forced himself to continue. "One, two..."

In one quick movement, he pushed hard on his shoulder, and with an unpleasantly soft sound the joint moved back into place. True to his word, Loki stayed silent except for a muffled whimper.

Thor pulled the boy back into his arms, holding him against his chest as he stood. He would have no problem carrying him out of the tunnels, as he couldn't have weighed more than seventy pounds.

"Let me unlock his restraints." Thor had almost forgotten about his guide, but now he turned to find him standing in the doorway. "I have a key, and there may not be another chance." The creature approached with a key in his hand, and the older prince had to force himself to allow him to approach his little brother and grab his wrists. There was a small click as the handcuffs fell away, and an audible intake of breath from Thor when he saw his bloody wrists.

The Chitauri wasn't fazed. "Hurry. We have to go before someone returns." He turned to leave, and after a moment, Thor followed him.

"Wait." Loki's eyes were closed, but he could still speak. "I want my coat."

Thor glanced around the room and spotted the filthy article of clothing lying discarded in the corner.

"You, grab the coat." The Chitauri turned to give him a look of complete disgust. He didn't argue, however, and quickly crossed the room to grab it.

"Now, can we leave? It is not only your lives at stake here." He glanced toward the door again, and Thor realized for the first time exactly what helping them meant for this creature. His tone softened slightly as he nodded and moved towards the door. "Lead the way."


	18. Chapter 18

The journey back to the gateway was one of the most terrifying experiences of the god's life. Every stone that moved was a Chitauri, every echo the sound of someone discovering their escape. In his arms, his little brother felt as fragile as a newborn child and his heartbeat was weak and faltering. Thor could feel the blood dripping from his wounds even with the coat pressed tightly against the more heavily bleeding gash in his stomach, and he couldn't shake the fear that he wouldn't even make it back to Asgard.

He was so caught up in the small sounds of the tunnels that when he finally heard a loud shout from far behind them he nearly jumped. Up ahead of them, the Chitauri cursed in his own language.

"We have been discovered. I do not think they know of the gateway to your world, but they have many soldiers at their disposal and I doubt it will take them long to find us. We must move quickly, or we may not make it in time." The grip on Thor's arm tightened, and he was forced to increase his pace as the Chitauri pulled him along the corridor. In his arms, Loki moaned quietly in pain from the sudden jostling. Thor felt terrible for hurting him, but he knew that there was no other way if he did not wish his brother dead. Noise traveled easily through the tunnels, so the sounds of shouting and the hisses of the Chitauri were clearly audible as they rushed towards their destination. Thor could hear them getting louder, and although it was difficult to judge distance he swore they were getting closer as well.

He was about to ask how far from the gate they were when their guide suddenly stopped. "Move as quickly as you can. If your light is still visible from here when they reach this place, they will be able to follow you." There was a click, and the white glow of his lantern illuminated the small doorway directly to his right. Loki flinched away from the light, turning to bury his face against Thor's tunic and making a soft groaning noise.

"It's all right, Loki. We are almost home." He turned to face the Chitauri once more. "Thank you for your help, and I wish you luck." He gave a formal nod before turning to the tunnel and stepping inside.

The tunnel seemed longer on the journey back, and twice as treacherous. The boy in his arms made it more difficult to watch his feet, and he stumbled several times on the jagged rocks of the path. Thankfully, the twists and turns of the tunnel made him certain that their light would not be visible for the Chitauri to follow. Nothing would have been worse than coming this far only to be caught again. The walk was silent, with the exception of Loki's heavy breathing, and it seemed like hours before the pale moonlight shining through the far entrance became visible. Thor felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he started the climb out, the sight of the stars shining through the opening in the rocks and the feeling of his brother's heartbeat in his arms reassurance that his mission was almost completed. Climbing out was difficult without the use of his arms, but after a moment he was standing back on solid Asgardian ground.

"Thor!" His mother was suddenly by his side, coming from seemingly nowhere. "Gods, it's been hours, we were so worried…" Frigga brushed back Loki's hair to look at his face. "Is he alright? You made it in time?"

Her barrage of questions was overwhelming after the past hour of silence, and it took Thor a minute to process her words. His response was made unnecessary, however, when the boy he had thought to be unconscious spoke.

"Mum?"

"Yes, I'm here… Thor, give him to me." His mother was far stronger than she looked, and she took the small boy from him with ease. "We're going to take you home, Loki. It's going to be ok." In the light from the lantern, Thor could see the concern on her face before she turned away. He followed, stepping into the boat after her. When she next spoke, her words were directed back at him.

"I'm going to have questions later, but for the moment we have more important things to focus on. When we return, there will likely be many people angry with us for rescuing him. Loki is in no state to deal with that, so I'm leaving you in charge of protecting him and keeping him away from all of that. Clean him up, bandage what you can, and make sure he stays in his room. I will deal with your father." As she spoke, pale green tendrils of magic flowed from her fingertips to Loki's stomach. The blood that had still been dripping from him seemed to be stopping, along with the shaking in his pale hands, and Thor had never felt more grateful for his mother's healing magic.

The trip back to the palace was short, and soon Frigga was returning Loki to Thor. "Take him to his room, do not let anyone in besides me." She leaned over to kiss her youngest son softly on the forehead. "I love you, darling, and I will be back as soon as I can."

With one last glance at Thor, she turned and headed purposefully towards the throne room, leaving her boys to make their way to Loki's room.

The door creaked as Thor pushed it open, not having been used in several years. The room, with it's dark green walls and heavy black drapes, was just as gloomy as Thor remembered it to be.

"We're home, Loki," he said softly.

The boy in his arms opened his eyes to look around, although he didn't move. "I-is this my room?"

"It is. And this-" Thor crossed the room and pushed open a door. "is your bathroom. We're going to get you clean." He shifted Loki so he could hold him with one arm and crouched to turn on the taps in the bath. Loki rested against his shoulder his eyes tightly shut, clearly tired and in pain. Thor gently combed his hair with his fingers as he waited for the bath to fill. "I know you want to sleep, and I promise that you will be able to soon. But if we don't patch you up now, you will feel worse in the morning."

Loki nodded, opening his eyes, and his voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke a moment later. "Is that bed in there for me?" He assumed that it was, but he didn't want to get his hopes up and be disappointed.

"Everything in the room belongs to you, the bed included." Thor smiled softly at his little brother.

The bath had finished while they spoke, and Thor set the boy down on the edge to quickly undress him. His clothes were in tatters and it didn't take long to pull them off his thin body, so he was soon sitting in the water. If it hadn't been clear to Thor how filthy his brother was, it certainly was now. Moments after settling into the bath, Loki's skin had turned several shades lighter where the water touched him and the clean liquid had already started to become murky from blood and dirt. He was running his hands through the water, watching them closely as the filth was washed away.

"Gods, I'm pale."

Thor was surprised into silence for a moment by the causal way he made the comment before he burst into laughter. "That you are. You never were one for sunlight, even when you were older." He picked up a cloth from where it was folded on a shelf, wetting it before gently beginning to wipe dirt from the boy's face. Loki tried to pull away, but he persisted.

"Thor, wait-" He tried to push his brother away, to no avail. "Thor! Stop it, I can do it myself!" He glared at him until he was handed the cloth. "Thank you."

Thor couldn't stop smiling. He hadn't expected his brother to be able to hold a conversation after his week of torture, let alone act so much like himself, and he couldn't help but hope that this would mean a fast recovery. Perhaps whatever magic had brought his brother back from the dead was helping him cope and heal. He knew that it was foolish to expect that things would be ok so soon, but he couldn't keep himself from hoping.

Loki slowly cleaned as much of the dirt from his skin as he could. The warm water felt amazing on his sore body, although it made his cuts burn a little. He avoided his major wounds with the cloth, but he still managed to get himself mostly clean after a few minutes. He looked up at his brother questioningly, to find him holding a small wooden bowl and a slim bar of soap.

"Hold still and let me do it. It won't hurt, I promise." He used the tap to fill the bowl with cool water, and slowly poured it over his injured shoulder as he washed it with the soap. Loki nearly sighed out loud from the pleasure. The cool water felt like heaven, and he barely minded Thor's hands cleaning him this time. Slowly, body part by sore body part, the older brother repeated the procedure until the last bit of dirt was washed away. Thor hastily finished up by washing his hair before picking him up out of the water and wrapping him in a towel. And as much as Loki felt like he was too old to be treated like a child, it was a relief not to have to move his aching muscles, and he rested his head on Thor's shoulder as he carried him back into the bedroom. He allowed his brother to dry him, but stopped him when he tried to dress him.

"I can do it myself," he said, taking the clothes. In truth, dressing himself was more painful than he had anticipated, but he kept silent. For some reason, he didn't want Thor to see him as any weaker than he already had.

The clothes were soft and unlike what he was used to, and he couldn't help himself from running his hands over the silky fabric while he waited for his brother to return from tidying the bathroom. The bed, too, was almost ridiculously luxuriant, with its velvety drapes and thick, soft blankets, and when Thor finally returned he was tracing the intricate patterns of the gold stitching with his fingertip.

"I need to bandage you before mother arrives, but as you are no longer bleeding I think it would be alright if you got some sleep first. Is that okay?"

Loki nodded, and moved towards the head of the bed to lie down. He was aching with exhaustion, and the comfort of the bed was more appealing than words could describe. "Are you going to stay with me?"

Thor sat next to him, pulling the blankets up so they covered him. "I am. Do you want me on the bed? If not, I will still be only a few feet away." He gestured to the seat by the bedside.

Loki hesitated before replying. "Could… Could you stay on the bed with me?" He felt weak for asking, but he was desperate for the solid warmth that he knew his brother would provide.

"Of course." Thor softly leaned over to kiss his forehead before standing to extinguish the lamp. The room went dark, but surprisingly Loki found it comforting. For the last week, dark had meant safety, and even though he knew no one would hurt him here the darkness still helped him to relax. He turned to lie on his side and take the pressure off his injured shoulder, closing his eyes as he did so. Behind him, he felt the weight of his brother settle onto the bed, and a large hand rest protectively on his side. For the first night in weeks, he felt safe, and it didn't take long for his breathing to even out and sleep to claim him.


	19. Chapter 19

Thor was woken early in the morning by a soft knocking at the door. The room was still dark, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. The bundle of warmth curled against his chest reminded him quickly, and the events of the night before came flooding back to him. He sat upright slowly, trying not to wake his brother as he climbed out of the bed and walked towards the door. He pulled it open to reveal his exhausted mother standing outside.

"Thor. I've had quite a morning, it's a relief to see you." She stepped into the room, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She lowered her voice when she saw the boy asleep on the bed, but continued talking. "How is he? Did you look at his injuries at all?"

Thor closed the door and moved to light the small lamp on Loki's desk. "He was doing surprisingly well last night. He was talking to me, and for the most part was not bleeding. He needed rest, and I did not have the chance to bandage him, but he did not seem to need it as much as I would have expected him to. "

Frigga moved to sit beside her youngest son on the bed, gently tugging the blanket away from his face to look at him. "Odin wants to see him. Right now. I told him that Loki needed to heal first, but he insisted on it, so I'm going to do my best to heal what I can at the moment. Go get him something nice to wear." She waved Thor towards the closet before lifting the sleeping boy onto her lap. "Loki, sweetheart, you need to wake up…"

Loki had slept without dreams that night, so for once it was not a relief to be woken. He was so tired he could barely think, and being pulled from the pain-dulling sleep was a miserable experience. "No, I wanna sleep, please…" He felt the warm, soft presence that he had woken near pull him a little closer.

"I'm sorry, darling. I know you want to rest, but you have to get up. Your father wants to see you."

Loki blinked his eyes open at the sound of his mother's voice. "He...he wants to see me? Why?"

"I don't know," she lied, "but we can't disobey him, so we need to get you ready. I'm going to perform a simple healing, so I need you to tell me where it hurts, alright?"

He nodded in understanding, yawning as he did. He let her set him back down on the bed and lay still as her hands began to move over him. Every few moments, whenever she brushed a gash in his skin or a broken bone, he would make a quiet noise of pain and she would send little green wisps of light into the injury. The light, which he knew to be magic, soothed the pain but didn't completely erase it. Even lying down he could feel the ache and sting of his wounds and he knew it would be worse once he was standing.

Less than ten minutes later, Frigga stood. "That's the best I can do for now, but it should be adequate for a few hours. I need to talk to Thor outside, do you think you can dress yourself?"

He sat up to see the small pile of fabric on the end of the bed and shrugged. "Yeah, I can." He watched them leave before climbing off the bed. Sharp pain shot from leg, which he was fairly certain had been broken, but he did his best to ignore it as he limped towards the clothes that had been laid out for him. A soft green tunic with black pants, with a small gold circlet on top. This grabbed his attention, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out to pick it up. The cool metal felt familiar in his hands as he turned it over, running his thumb over the bits of metal that stuck off. The 'V' in the front and the little carved wings shone the lamplight, and they looked so beautiful that he almost believed that it had been placed with his things by accident. If there was anything he was sure of after his short time alive, it was that he was not the sort of person to deserve beautiful things.

He turned, and, spotting a mirror, crossed the room. The dim light didn't make it easy to see detail, but what was visible still stopped him in his tracks. He'd only seen his reflection once before, several weeks ago in a grimy New York shop window, and if he hadn't known better he wouldn't have even known he was the same boy. That boy he had seen all those weeks ago had been pale, sure, and thin. But he'd looked alive. Now, his reflection stared out of the mirror with wide eyes set in a gaunt face; his skin was nearly white and it clung to the bones clearly visible beneath it. His clothes hung loosely on him, making it clear how scrawny he was beneath them, and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. The only familiar features were his bright green eyes and the shaggy black hair that still reached his ears.

The light glinted off the circlet in his hand, reminding him why he'd approached the mirror in the first place. Slowly, he turned it over in his hands and reached up to carefully place it on his head. It fit him perfectly, the surprisingly light golden metal resting comfortably across his forehead. He reached up to touch it, mesmerized, but his fingers barely brushed it before a knock at the door snapped him back to reality.

"Loki? Are you nearly ready?"

"One moment," he called back, turning away from the mirror to grab his clothes. He dressed as quickly as he could despite the pain, and after running his fingers through his hair he walked to the door and tugged it open. The wood was heavy, and it took some effort to drag the door even partially open. Thor, standing outside, noticed his struggle and easily pushed it the rest of the way.

"My apologies. Are you ready to go?"

Loki nodded, glancing at his mother. "I'm going to see father, right?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for waking you so soon, but he was insistent that you see him immediately. It was all I could do to get you a few hours rest." She smiled faintly at him and reached to offer her hand, which he gratefully took. He wanted to seem strong in front of his father, but he was unbearably nervous.

He was only about a head shorter than his mother, but he felt much smaller as she led him through the beautiful hallways of the palace. The whole place seemed familiar, yet intimidating, and he held her hand tightly as they approached the throne room. The guards at the door stared as they stopped in front of the golden doors, but Loki forced himself to look away and focus on his mother as she knelt beside him.

"Alright, darling. Listen to me. I do not know if you remember your father enough to know what to expect, but I hope you do. Keep your head up, but don't stare. Everyone is going to be wary of you, but you mustn't let it bother you. Answer any questions truthfully, and everything will be ok. Do you understand?" She touched his cheek gently, looking into his eyes.

"Yes," he said softly. "I can do that."

Frigga glanced at him one last time before standing and dropping her hands. "I'll be right behind you the whole time."

Ahead of them, the gates swung open, revealing the bright lights and hushed murmurings of a small crowd. But Loki ignored them. His eyes were focused on the center of the room, where the King sat on a tall golden throne. Loki felt all eyes on him as he entered the room, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead at the man on the platform. He recognized him instantly, of course. Odin had been present in many of his dreams, although not many of them had been pleasant. He prayed, however, that after hearing what he had to say his father would be more forgiving than he remembered him being. As the crowd around him fell silent, Loki recalled his mothers words and let his eyes drop to the golden tiles at odin's feet.

"Loki Laufeyson."

Loki couldn't help himself from glancing up when Odin- the man he fully considered to be his father- referred to his frost giant heritage. He nearly corrected him, but the cold gaze of the king stopped the words before they could pass his lips. Instead, he acknowledged him with a quiet reply.

"Yes, My Lord."

Odin paused for the briefest moment before continuing. "Your mother has given me a full account of what you told her, as well as what she has seen for herself. Can you prove that what she tells me is true?"

Loki looked up to meet Odin's gaze, his head tilting slightly to the side. "Why? Do you not believe mother?"

He regretted his words almost instantly when his father's expression hardened. "I mean no disrespect. I only meant, I don't see how I can offer any more proof than her words."

Odin remained silent for a terrifying moment, looking down at the boy. "Then you leave me no choice. The Queen was only relaying the story you gave her, so it is your words that I doubt. And those alone are not enough to prove your innocence. You have proved yourself time and time again to be a master of deception, and I believe that there are few in Asgard who would be willing to risk our safety on the chance that you speak the truth."

Loki stared up at him, wide eyed, as his words sunk in. He had considered the possibly that Odin would not forgive him, but that he would be accused of lying about his ordeal had not crossed his mind. Before he could speak, however, the King continued.

"However, I acknowledge that there is a chance that your story is true, as unlikely as it sounds, and I will wait to issue a punishment until we have more proof. Until then, however…" He gestured to the guards standing to the left of him. "You will be staying where we can keep a close watch on you."

The boy took half a step backwards as the guards began to approach him, glancing back and forth between them and his father. Behind him, he could hear the voices of his mother and brother, although he could not make out what they were saying over the approving murmur of the crowd and the pounding sound of his own heartbeat. The ache in his shoulders flared up violently when hands grabbed him. He cried out in pain, but he was ignored, and the unyielding grip of the guards began to pull him firmly back towards the golden doors. His head was spinning as he scrambled on his half healed leg to keep up with the much taller men.

They rounded the corner a few seconds later, but Loki managed one last glimpse over his shoulder before he was pulled away. His eyes met the King's, and even after he could no longer see him, the coldness in his gaze stayed with him.

The trip to the underground cells may have taken less than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity to the boy. His injuries burned and ached with every step, and the hallways around them seemed to blur and spin as he stumbled though them. These stone halls were polished and clean, but fear did its best to convince him that around each corner they would turn jagged and dark. 

The cells themselves were colder than he had expected. Not as cold as the Chitauri dungeon had been, but it was enough to make his shiver as he pressed his back against the stone wall and watched the guards walk away. He leaned forward, hugging his knees and resting his forehead against them. This was partially to ward off the chill, but also to try and get rid of the thoughts swarming in his still spinning mind.

They didn't trust him. They thought he as lying, presumably for the sake of some dark scheme. Although, from what he recalled of his past self, they were certainly justified in suspecting him of dishonesty. It didn't mean their distrust didn't sting, though.

He took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to force himself not to cry. After all, his situation wasn't all that bad. All he had to do was pull himself together enough to focus on convincing Odin of his innocence, and everything would be ok. And even if he couldn't, he reminded himself, an Asgardian dungeon was practically a royal suite compared to where he'd been before.

A small voice in the back of his head whispered that it couldn't be so simple, but he chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the ray of hope that he had. He thought about what he could say to his father, replaying and rearranging the words again and again in his head until his exhausted mind finally slowed down enough for him to drift back into sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok a couple things: I wrote this in 2014-ish back when we all headcannoned the avengers all living together in the tower. I also originally wrote it in two chapters, hence the break in the middle, but since I took a year to update I figured I shouldn't be stingy with chapter length. Also, if Loki seems like he sleeps too much? hes a small child who has had a rough couple weeks idk leave me alone it tapers off soon anyways

Loki wasn't sure how long he stayed in the prison cell. He felt almost delirious, his thoughts fuzzy and blurring together. He drifted in and out of a light sleep, never fully waking up, and the hours blurred together until he completely lost track of time.

Eventually, however, he was pulled from his trance when a soft knocking sound startled him enough to sit up. The cell was dark, but he could definitely make out the outline of a huge, hulking figure crouching above him. He yelped in terror, trying to crawl backwards but only managing to smack his head on the wall. He flinched when the shadowy figure reached for him, but when it spoke he immediately calmed.

"Shh, Loki, it's alright, it is only me."

"Gods, Thor, you scared me." Loki's voice was a scratchy whisper, but the relief in it was clear.

"I apologize, I forgot…" Thor paused. "Never mind. Can you stand?"

Loki looked up at him, head tilted. "I think so. Why?"

Thor stood, reaching for his little brother's hand. "We're going. I will explain the details to you later, but right now we need to hurry as quickly as possible."

Taking his hand, Loki pulled himself to his feet. His wounds still ached, especially after sitting still for so long, but he managed to stay silent and follow Thor as he led him back into the corridor. They crept back towards the stairs, both staying completely silent as they started heading back up to the main palace. The halls were dark as well, and their footsteps were the only sound as they made their way towards the gate.

Loki couldn't help feeling relieved when they were at last out of the palace. He kept his eyes fixed on Thor, finally able to see his features in the dim starlight. Once he felt they were a safe distance from the door, he dared to speak.

"Thor? Where are we going?"

The god glanced down at him before gesturing ahead. "To the bifrost. I know a place where you can stay for a while."

There was a brief moment of quiet before Loki spoke again.

"Why do I have to leave? I'm certain we could convince father that I'm telling the truth, then I could stay here with you."

Thor sighed softly. "It is not that simple. Father is not the sort of man who is easily reasoned with, and he has already convinced himself that you are not innocent. I may be able to find a way to persuade him otherwise, but until then you would not be safe here."

Loki couldn't help feeling a surge of disappointment. Despite everything, he had been hoping to be allowed to stay with his family. After a moment, he opened his mouth to ask another question, but the words faded before he could speak them.

As they turned their final corner, their destination appeared up ahead. Loki had faint memories of the bifrost, but they did nothing to prepare him for the sight in front of him. The bridge seemed to sparkle, giving off a soft light that did nothing to block out the thousands of stars that shone overhead. Entire galaxies were visible, swirled with bright colors that even the iridescent structure before him couldn't compare to.

Thor glanced down at the awestruck face of his brother. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Loki nodded faintly. "I don't remember it being so bright"

The god smiled at his words, but didn't reply as they headed forward. Loki kept his eyes cast to the sky, so their walk was silent until they reached Heimdall's post.

The gatekeeper nodded in greeting when the brothers approached. Loki immediately looked startled, looking to Thor. His brother laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Loki. I have already spoken with Heimdall and he has agreed to give us passage to Midgard."

"That is correct. I saw enough of you on Midgard to know you at least deserve a chance to prove yourself innocent, and I know the King well enough to understand that if you stay, you will not get it."

The walls of the room began to spin as Heimdall activated the bifrost, and Loki watched in wonder as it appeared before them. Thor pulled him close, holding the boy tightly against him as he stepped forward into the swirling light bridge. Loki immediately felt the pull of the magic on him, both physically and mentally, and he clung to Thor as they hurtled away from Asgard. He had kept his eyes open enough to watch the brilliant colors flashing past, but he quickly regretted it when he glanced up to see the ground speeding towards them. He barely had time to make a sound, however, before they collided and the air was knocked from his lungs. Thor kept his tight grip on his little brother as they landed, keeping him from falling down, but it did nothing to stop the wave of agony that hit him with the shock from their landing. He clutched his brother tightly, burying his face into his tunic and breathing heavily as he rode out the pain.

"Loki…? Brother, are you alright?"

It took him a few moments to register the worried voice, and a few more for the pain to fade enough for him to look up and respond. "I'm fine. I just didn't expect to land quite so hard." Carefully, he released his death grip on Thor's clothes and took a step back.

They were standing in a small patch of land between two buildings, maybe twenty meters across. In front of them was a more or less empty street, populated only by a few frightened looking pedestrians.

Thor, still looking worriedly at the boy beside him, placed a gentle hand on his back and began to lead him towards a bench by the side of the road. "Sit, I will go find out where we are." He waited until his brother was settled on the bench before turning away and looking around. He was already aware of where they were, but he was determined that Loki would have a few minutes to rest.

Although he wouldn't have admitted it to Thor, he was grateful for the chance to sit. His whole body ached, especially his leg and shoulders, and the partially healed lashes on his back were starting to sting from the friction of rubbing against his shirt. He leaned against the bench and closed his eyes, listening to the quiet, vaguely familiar city noises while ignoring the few people still staring at him and his brother.

At some point, Loki slipped into a light sleep, and was slumped against Thor's shoulder when a loud sound woke him. His eyes shot open immediately, but the sight in front of him didn't quite process. A shining, metallic man stood in the street, looking directly at him. Something far in the back of his mind recognized the figure, but shock from the sudden appearance overpowered the memory.

Unlike Loki, Thor was barely surprised, and stood. "Stark. Not that I am unhappy to see you, but how did you know we were here?"

The metal man's face slid back to reveal a real man underneath. "Well, when you have reports of people falling out of the sky, you have to figure it's either you or someone trying to take over New York again. Have to say, I'm glad it's you." He flashed a smile at Thor before continuing. "So, what brings you to earth? I thought you were keeping your distance."

The faint smile on the god's face faded. "If it is alright with you, I would rather not discuss my business here." He glanced to the side. "It is a family matter, and it is important that it remains an absolute secret for a while." The man's eyes slid to the boy on the bench, but if he was curious he didn't let it show. "Alright. We can talk at the tower, then." He turned to go, glancing over his shoulder and pausing to wait for Thor.

Slipping Mjölnir from where it hung on his belt, Thor reached back for Loki, who stood and limped to him. He secured a firm grip on his brother before swinging his hammer and following his friend into the air.  
The brief flight to stark tower was even more unpleasant for the boy than the bifrost trip had been. He was jostled, the wounds on his back chafing against his back, and the landing, while not as forceful, was much rougher. He groaned in pain as Thor released him, clutching at his brother's shirt to stay upright.

Thor looked down at him with concern before looking up and speaking to the metal man standing expectantly in front of them. "I apologize for my sudden appearance, but I have a favor to ask of you." He paused for a moment, looking down again at his brother. "But first… do you have a room my friend could rest in? He needs to lie down far more than he needs to sit through our discussion.

"Um, sure." Tony gestured for them to follow as he headed into the tower. "So, for this favor… is it the kind of thing we're gonna need to talk to the others about?"

Thor considered for a moment. "Yes. I think that would be best."

"Alright. JARVIS, tell everyone to meet me in the living room."

Loki's mind was barely working well enough to be surprised when a voice came from the ceiling to reply to the man. He leaned into Thor, letting him lead him down the hall and barely noticing his surroundings until he found himself being tucked into a warm bed.

By the time Tony and Thor finally made their way to the main living room, the rest of the tower's residents were already waiting for them. Heads turned as they walked in, and smiles appeared when they saw Thor.

"Hey, told you he'd be back!" grinning, Clint pulled himself upright on the couch. "How's it going?"

Thor smiled as he sat himself on the armchair across from the others. "I'm fine. It is good to see you all, but I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for long. I'm here to ask a favor of you, and then I have to return to Asgard.

The avengers looked at him expectantly, but he hesitated to continue. He was highly aware of how delicate a situation this was, and how justified his friends would be to refuse him.

"Before I tell you anything… you have to promise to hear me out. You might not like what I am going to ask of you, but it is important and I need you to listen. Alright?"

He looked expectantly at them, waiting until they had all given a sign of agreement.

"So, I assume you all remember the events of our last battle together..."

\----

"You want us to do what?" Clint was the first one to react when Thor finished his story, sitting bolt upright on the couch and staring wide-eyed at the god, incredulous and angry. "Keep your psychotic brother, in the tower with us? Are you crazy?"

"I know how you must feel about this, but I assure you-"

"I don't care that he tricked you into thinking he's changed, or whatever. Maybe you forgot, but he's the goddam god of lies."

The rest of the avengers were staring at him with a mix of shock and anger, but they took a moment longer than Clint to process his words. Steve was next to speak.

"Thor… I know you want to believe your brother, but Clint has a point. He doesn't exactly have a history of being the kind of person you can trust, and this almost seems like it would be a little too convenient for him." His voice was a lot calmer than his teammate's, but he still looked distrustful.

Thor shook his head. "I know you have every right to distrust Loki, but I would not ask if I were not sure it was safe. Even if this were some sort of trick, he is weak. He can barely walk, much less do any harm. I only need a place for him to hide until we are certain that my father will give him a fair trial, and I cannot think of a safer place than here with you. Both for his sake and that of the people you fear he could harm."

Clint and Steve both opened their mouths to reply, but Natasha spoke first. "How long?"

Her direct question caught Thor off guard for a moment. "I… I do not know. I had hoped that he could stay here for however long it takes for me to calm things down on Asgard, but I promise that you will not have to keep him for more than a few months.

"A few months? Are you fu-"

"I think we should do it." Natasha interrupted the furious archer. "It's Tony's choice, obviously, but I don't think Thor would have us keep him here if it wasn't necessary."

Tony looked at her for a moment before slowly nodding. "She has a point. Alright, Goldilocks, we'll watch him for you. He raised his voice to speak over the immediate protests from the group as he continued. "No more than a few months, though. You'd better get him by then or I might just toss him into the street."

Thor nodded. "Thank you, I know this is a lot to ask. I am in your debt." He stood, glancing around at his friends. I must return to Asgard before my absence is noticed, or I would stay longer. He stepped forward to shake Tony's hand and nod formally to the rest of the team before turning to the door.

Loki was deeply asleep, but a gentle hand brushing against his forehead partially woke him. He was aware of a warm presence beside him, and a soft kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Loki. I promise I'll return as soon as I can."

He wanted to reply, but sleep still had a firm hold on him. The warmth vanished, and he slipped back into his deep rest.


	21. Chapter 21

Loki awoke slowly, many hours later. The room was almost completely dark, and when he poked his head from under the heavy blanket the air was cold. He lay still for a moment as the memories from the day before returned to him. He wasn't exactly sure where he was… he had been so tired that he could barely remember a single detail. He knew he was away from Asgard, and that Thor had brought him back to the city, but beyond that he only had a few blurred, familiar faces.

He sat up and pushed away the blanket. Standing, he headed for the door, determined to discover anything he could about his new situation. The hallway was no warmer than his room, but Loki didn't bother going back for a blanket. Instead he headed for the end of the hallway where he could see light coming from a doorway, and as he approached he could hear a few quiet voices. He poked his head through, quiet and as of yet still unnoticed. There were only a few people in the room. The man from earlier, no longer encased in metal, was relaxing on the couch beside a tall blonde man. They were talking to another, slightly shorter, man who Loki did not recognize. His brother was nowhere in sight.

Carefully, he stepped into the room and moved a few hesitant steps towards the men. It only took a moment for them to notice him

"H-hello…" Loki greeted them hesitantly. "Have you seen my brother?"

The men stared at him for a moment more before the blonde one spoke. "Thor had to go back to Asgard. He left you here for your own safety."

Loki felt betrayed, despite the fact that he had already suspected his brother was going to leave him soon. It made sense, after all. This way Thor would be less likely to be blamed for his disappearance, and he could direct any searching away from his real hiding place. Which, now that he was more awake, he realized could be anywhere. Looking up from his thoughts, he dared another question. "I'm sorry, but Thor didn't tell me much before we left. Would you mind telling me where I am?"

The group in front of him shared another look, and Loki couldn't help feeling uneasy. They seemed familiar, and if he'd learned anything in the past few weeks it was that that meant he had probably done something horrible to them.

This time it was the previously metal man that spoke. "You're in New York, kid. Stark tower."

Stark tower. Images flashed through the boy's mind, both fuzzy ones and a few more recent. Stark tower, the battle of New York, and the people in front of him…" The little color in his face vanished as he realized who he was talking to.

"Oh."

\----

Tony couldn't make himself feel any sympathy for the boy, even as he watched him pale in fear. He may have allowed him to stay in his tower, but he'd only done it out of respect for his teammate. The kid's reaction to learning where he was was confirmation of what Thor had told them, that Loki would likely remember what he had done in his last visit to the city, and all the proof he needed that the boy wasn't anything close to innocent. Why be so nervous about something if you weren't guilty about it?

"Yep." he kept his tone unfriendly. "He says you're going to be staying here for a while, so some ground rules. One, you stay on this floor unless an avenger is with you. Two, don't bother anyone unless you have to. Three, don't touch my crap, especially if you don't know how to use it." He didn't know much about Asgard, but from his interactions with the older brother he was pretty sure Loki wouldn't know how to work a phone, much less the advanced technology he had around the tower. "Got it?" The boy nodded silently. "Good. You can stay in the room you were sleeping in. I don't care what you do in there as long as you don't break anything or make too much noise." He turned back to the group, picking up the conversation like the kid wasn't even there. "So I'm thinking Chinese for tonight. You guys cool with that?"

\----

Steve wasn't sure what to make of the fragile looking child. On one hand, he had listened to Thor's story, he knew who he was. He had seen the aftermath of the battle, and he was completely aware of the evil Loki was capable of. But this kid? He didn't seem anything like the confidant and brutal god they had encountered before. He was tiny, for one thing, less than five feet tall and scrawny. His eyes were green now, instead of the blue he remembered them to be, and had a wide, haunted quality that had definitely not been there before. Honestly, he looked like he might fall over at any moment, and he was a little shocked by Tony's harsh tone. He looked reproachfully at him, but didn't say anything. After all, it was technically his tower. He nodded absently at his suggestion for dinner, keeping his focus on the kid. He looked uncomfortable and unsure of what to do, and after a few seconds turned and left the room. He was only a few steps from the door, but Steve couldn't help noticing the clear limp in his walk and the way he clenched his hands as he moved. He made a mental note to find out more about that later, but for the moment returned his attention to the conversation.

\----

Loki returned to the room that had been designated as his. It took him a few moments to find the light switch, and a few more to decide he did not like the bright light and turn it back off. Instead, he switched on the small lamp by his bed and used that to examine the place where he would be staying. It wasn't as big as his room in the palace had been, but it certainly wasn't small. A bed was to his left, and there was a deck in the corner beside the bookshelf. There was a small table on either side of the bed. On one was the lamp he had switched on, and on the other… he narrowed his eyes before moving around the bed to get a closer look at the small pile. Dark fabric, with his small circlet sitting on top. He moved the crown to pull out the fabric and spread it out on the bed, frowning as he realized what it was. Slightly tattered and dirty, Thor had left his coat with him. Running his fingers over the cloth, he realized that now, in these entirely new surroundings, the coat and crown would be the only familiar things he had, and felt a rush of gratitude for his brother's thoughtfulness. He stared absently down for a few minutes more, softly stroking the material and letting his thoughts wander, before looking up to glance once again around the room. Grabbing the coat, he headed towards the door he had noted as the bathroom. It was nice, although it didn't compare to the one in his room on Asgard. He bathed quickly, the pressure of the shower stinging his injuries, before quickly washing the coat as best he could and hanging it up to dry in the shower. Still feeling worn out despite his many hours of sleep and with nothing better to do, he returned to bed.

Tony had talked himself out hours ago, and was sulking on the couch with a bowl of takeout. Clint sat beside him, also silent, Natasha having somehow convinced him to come out of their room. The TV played quietly in the background, but no one was really listening. Whether or not they wanted to talk about it, Loki was still in the tower, and it was on every one of their minds.

"Do you think someone should bring him food?" Natasha pulled Steve from his thoughts, leaning against the counter and speaking quietly. "Maybe make sure he's still there and everything."

He looked at her for a moment, caught off guard. He thought nothing his friend would be able be to surprise him anymore, but she'd once again proven him wrong. Standing up for Loki earlier today, and now suggesting this. "Uh, alright. I'll do it." He still wasn't sure her plan wasn't to just straight up murder the kid. He didn't think she would do something like that, but her behavior that day had been strange enough that he almost wouldn't be surprised.

Grabbing a plate and dumping the nearest container of chicken and rice onto it, he headed out into the hall. All the avengers lived on a single floor of the tower, but Loki's room was in a different hallway from the rest of them. He pushed open the door to find the room dark and the boy curled on the bed. He approached cautiously, unsure if he was asleep or not. His eyes fixed on the child, he set the plate on the bedside table. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed that he was shaking, and after a moment the green eyes flicked open as if to check if Steve was still there before quickly closing again. A shiver ran through the kid, and all wariness melted away from Steve as he recognized what he was seeing. The boy was afraid. He hesitated for a moment, wondering of he should try and comfort him, before simply backing up a few steps and speaking quietly.

"There's more in the kitchen if you want it, right down the hall. I'd wait a few hours or so, though, until everyone's gone to bed."

Loki didn't react, but Steve was satisfied that he'd heard and returned to the kitchen.


	22. Chapter 22

The door of the tower's guest room creaked open. The hall was quiet and dark, and Loki was as silent as a shadow as he crept from his room towards the kitchen. The food that the blond man had brought him had been delicious, but it had been forever since he had had a proper meal and he was still starving. His fear of the Avengers had kept him in his room for several hours, but eventually his stomach drove him to decide that he had waited long enough.

There was a single, dim light on in the kitchen, and it was enough for Loki to find the pantry by. He poked around for a few minutes, but most of the foods were either raw or unfamiliar. Eventually he decided on a package of brightly colored pastries and was turning to leave when he froze, his heart nearly stopping from a sudden rush of terror as his eyes fixed on the shadow in the doorway. He stayed completely still, barely breathing, until the shadow spoke and he realized who it was.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you."

The blond man from earlier stepped forward into the relative light of the kitchen, his hands partially raised in the universal gesture for 'don't worry, I'm unarmed'. Loki knew that he shouldn't really trust anyone in this tower not to have bad intentions towards him- after all, they had every right to- but something about this man made him feel like he could. He still kept his eyes fixed warily on him, though, as he moved to lean against the counter a few feet away. There was a brief moment of silence before the man spoke.

"Do you know who I am?"

Loki started to shake his head, but paused as he looked a little closer at the face in front of him. It was definitely familiar. But it took a few seconds of searching before an image flashed into his head. A well-thumbed magazine, strewn on a Laundromat bench… "You're Captain America."

A smile flickered across the Captain's face. "Yeah. Steve Rogers, to most people." He surveyed the boy's face as he spoke. He looked nervous, but no longer ready to flee, and after a minute he took the chance of reaching towards him and speaking again. "Here, give me those, I'll heat them up. They won't taste as good cold."

Hesitantly, Loki handed him the package and watched as he started up what appeared to be a tiny, primitive oven. Steve gestured for him to sit at one of the tall chairs by the counter and the boy gratefully obeyed, more than relieved to take the pressure off his aching leg.

The wide green eyes remained fixed on Steve's face as the toaster oven heated up. He knew trying for conversation with the tiny god was probably pushing his luck, but Thor had been very vague about the circumstances that had brought Loki to Stark Tower and he had been left with about a thousand questions. "So, Loki. I can't help notice you've, uh, changed since we last met."

"Yeah." As much as he never wanted to speak of anything that happened in the past few weeks ever again, he more than owed these people any explanations they wanted. "I know what you most likely assume, but this wasn't my doing. It was a god called Thanos, my brother may have told you about him." He glanced at Steve, hoping he wouldn't have to explain any more, but his brief head shake told him that he did. He clenched his fists to stop the shaking that had begun since he had started speaking and continued. "In summary, this god and I had a deal- I would get earth in return for the Tessaract. Clearly, I did not manage to hold up my end of the bargain, and he wasn't willing to let me off the hook." He breathed a laugh, trying to shake off the disgust he still felt for his past self. "I promise, if it had been up to me I would have stayed dead."

Steve stared at him for a moment, processing. The words were shocking coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old boy. He wanted to pry and find out more about the deal he had made, but the hard expression that had settled over the boy's features told him that it would be cruel and pointless to push him any more.

So he stayed silent, lost in his thoughts until the ding of the toaster oven snapped him back to the present. He served the boy and watched him leave, silently except for a small murmur of thanks when he took the plate.

He stayed in the kitchen for nearly half an hour more, considering the strange boy and his unusual situation, before finally heading to bed.

\---

Steve slept in the next morning, for what was probably the first time in months. Once he awoke, though, he sent a message through JARVIS for the rest of the Avengers to meet him in the living room. When he finally arrived, the team was already there and they looked up when he walked in.

"Look who finally showed up. It's almost eight, are you sick or something? Can you even get sick?"

He ignored Tony and took his usual spot on the couch. "I know none of us really want to talk about it, but we really need to deal with this instead of just being angry about it." He looked pointedly at Tony. "I'm not saying you have to like Loki, or even talk to him, but we agreed to give him protection and that means we have to make sure he's comfortable. If you think you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from hurting or threatening him, stay away from his room." He glanced over at Clint, who looked annoyed but nodded his consent.

There was a moment of quiet before Tony spoke, tone just a touch less playful than usual. "So, Cap, what's with the sudden compassion? I thought you didn't like murderers."

"He's just a kid, Stark-" he started, but Natasha interrupted him.

"Tony, there's not a single person here who hasn't killed someone else, including you. So unless you've decided it's time for a sudden change in moral code and are about to kick the entire team out of your tower, shut up."

There was a moment of shocked silence at her unexpected words before Tony recovered and shrugged. "Alright, point taken. I won't murder him in his sleep." Clearly slightly offended by her comment, he started to stand. "Alright, are we done here?"

"You can leave in a second. Have any of you ever heard of Thanos?"

No one had.

"Well I was talking to Loki last night, and from what he said it looks like the Asgardians aren't the only ones who we're hiding him from. This guy is apparently a god or something, and he's the one who brought Loki back after New York."

Clint was the one who interrupted this time. "Are you saying you seriously believe that bullshit about him being brought back? News flash, you can't raise the dead. We never even got a body after the battle, it's pretty obvious he faked the whole thing. I said I'd tolerate him in the building, but that doesn't mean I think anything we've been told about him is true."

Steve sighed. "Look, I know you have every right to be skeptical, but I'm pretty sure he's telling the truth. Have you seen the kid? He looks like he just crawled out of hell, and somehow I don't think he did that to himself."

"He's a god of magic and lies," Clint growled. "The whole thing is an illusion. I know he's supposed to be good at it, but I thought you guys were smart enough not to be fooled." He pushed himself upright and stood. "I promise I won't kill him, if it makes you happy." It's hard to storm out angrily while wearing sweats and a tattered purple t-shirt, but he managed it, and a few moments later they heard the echo of a door slamming.

Steve leaned back and sighed. "Alright, well at least he agreed. I'll see you guys later." He pulled himself to his feet and headed for the door, hoping to get a few hours in the gym to calm down.


	23. Chapter 23

Loki was more careful after his encounter with Steve. While he'd been nice to him, he knew he probably wouldn't be as lucky if he ran into a different Avenger, so he stayed in his room almost all of the time. He left at night to grab food, but he never managed to take enough and was constantly at least a little bit hungry. He didn't mind so much, though. It was a huge improvement from his previous living conditions, where he had been given no food at all and there had been nothing but pain to occupy his time. Here, he had books and snacks and a soft bed. Even if he was a little lonely.

He managed to make it almost an entire week without seeing a single Avenger. He was in the kitchen, attempting to find himself something a little healthier than his usual quick meals, when a voice behind him made him jump.

"What're you looking for?"

He hadn't heard the woman approach, and it took him a few seconds to calm himself enough to stutter out a response. "N-nothing. I mean, food. I'm hungry." He looked up at her. She was much smaller than Steve, but something about the way she stood and watched him made him far more uneasy than being around the intimidatingly built man. He pressed himself against the shelves defensively, trying to stand up straighter, like a cat making itself appear larger to scare off a predator.

She watched him closely for a moment before shifting her gaze to the pantry behind him. "You're not going to find anything more than a snack in there, unless you like raw vegetables. You want some actual food?"

His instincts told him to run, to say no and get as far away from her as he could, but his stomach ached from hunger and he couldn't stop himself from nodding.

She turned and moved towards the metal box beside the counter. "You guys have refrigerators on Asgard, right? I don't know if they work the same, but this is what they look like here." She pulled the box open, bathing the kitchen in white light and sending a chill wind towards Loki.

He froze. Memories hit him like a fist to his stomach, and he was barely aware of slumping back against a shelf as his mind was yanked from the Midgardian kitchen and back to that frozen underground dungeon where the cold, white orb of light anchored his mind and eyes as he screamed…

A firm hand on his shoulder pulled him back to reality. He was curled against the pantry shelves, his breathing ragged and shaking and tears on his cheeks. The woman was crouched beside him, her eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together.

"Are you... alright?"

He reached up to quickly wipe away the tears and pushed himself upright. "I'm sorry, I don't know what just happened." His voice shook as violently as his hands.

She was quiet for a moment before sitting on the floor in front of him. "It's ok, I think I understand. Did you have a flashback?" He shrugged slightly, eyes fixed blankly on the closed fridge door. "I guess the LEDs from Tony's fridge caused it. They're some of the only lights like that on this floor, so it would make sense that this is the first time you've seen them." She watched him, thinking, before asking a quiet question. "What did you see?"

Loki was still nervous of the woman, but the gentleness in her words and hands was something he hadn't experienced since he had last seen Thor, and the truth spilled from his lips without his consent in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I was back with the Chitauri. The room where… where they tortured me, it was lit like that. And it was cold."

The woman's head tilted and she frowned slightly. "Who tortured you?"

It took a moment for him to be able to speak again. "I don't know his name. He was just a Chitauri. But it was Thanos who ordered it; he said it was my punishment for betraying him in New York."

"How did you betray him? Were you working for him or something?"

"All I remember is that we had a deal. I'd bring him the Tessaract, and he'd give me earth as a reward. I backed out of the bargain and killed myself all in one try, and he wasn't too happy about it. If you're gonna piss someone off, it's probably smart to pick someone aside from one of the most powerful beings in the nine realms." He tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow even to him. "Yeah. He thought death was too good me, I guess, because he brought me back so he could make sure I got the punishment I had coming." He was right, he thought to himself.

Natasha listened in horror to his explanation, although she kept her face more or less blank. Thor hadn't even touched on the events that had occurred between Loki's resurrection and Odin's decision to treat him like a criminal, so hearing that the frail boy sitting on the tile floor had been tortured for something he could barely remember was an immensely unpleasant surprise. Although, it did answer a lot of her questions. Why Thor was so concerned for him, and why the boy was so jittery and nervous. It also explained the limp she had noticed and the bruised and cut up face. She kept her voice gentle when she spoke, trying to make up for her invasive questioning. "Have you had your injuries treated yet?"

"Yeah. My mother did a quick healing before I left."

'Quick healing' didn't sound like a full medical examination to Natasha, and after a moment she pushed herself to her feet. "Go back to your room. I'll make you something, then I'm going to look at you and make sure you're ok." She didn't give him the option to say no, fairly certain he would refuse if she did. Turning away, she looked for the bread, waiting for him to fully leave before opening the fridge again.

She entered his room ten minutes later, a plate in her hand and her first aid kit under her arm. The lamp was on, and the room was illuminated by its warm glow. Loki was sitting on the bed, and he looked up when she entered the room. He looked scared, but he didn't make any attempt to tell get her to leave, so she took that as a sign that she was welcome and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Ok, take off your shirt and I'll check out the damage while you eat." She pushed the plate towards him. He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, tugging off the green tunic and reaching for the sandwich.

Natasha was barely able to stop her shock from showing on her face. The boy's torso was a mess of bruises and dark red lashes, strewn with scrapes and burns. All but the worst injuries were half healed, but that didn't do anything to make the sight of his mutilated skin any less horrific. She carefully stood to walk around the bed. Loki's eyes followed her, but he stayed still as she moved to examine his back. She couldn't help a slight hiss of sympathy this time. His back was worse than his chest, whip lashes crisscrossing over the entire area, some still bloody or reopened from his movement. They didn't draw attention from the vicious looking burn on his shoulder though, a series of red blisters and welts that looked almost like a cattle branding. Natasha immediately had a dozen more questions, but she wasn't heartless, there were clearly some terrifying memories behind these injuries and she wasn't going to make the boy talk so soon after they'd happened.

Loki was just finishing off his sandwich. "Alright, lay down and I'll see what I can do."

Now that he'd had some food, though, he was a lot less willing to let her help. "You don't have to waste your supplies on me. I'm mostly healed, anyways, all I need is some time."

She sighed. "You're literally sitting right in front of me, I can see you're not fine. Lay down or I'll make you lay down." Reluctantly, he obeyed, and she sat on the bed beside him. She to him as she opened her fist aid kit, using a slow tone of voice to keep him calm. "I'm gonna clean these, ok? It may sting a little." A drop of rubbing alcohol hit the blanket as she dampened a gauze pad with it. "I'm Natasha, by the way. In case you don't remember."

He hissed in pain as she pressed the pad to his back, but didn't try to move away. Some of the cuts looked like they might already be infected, and she paid careful attention not to hurt him as she cleaned them.

"So, what do you think of New York? It's a different experience when you're not trying to destroy it."

He laughed softly. "It's ok. Some of the people are decent. It's kind of cold, though."

"When did you find that out? I didn't think you'd been outside much."

"Well, not this time, but when I was first brought back I spent a while on the streets."

Natasha frowned as she reached for the antiseptic. Thor hadn't mentioned that, either. "What was that like? I didn't think it'd be possible for someone as small as you to survive on the streets in winter here."

He hesitated, almost unwilling to answer. "Well, I guess it would be for a human. Maybe even an Asgardian. I'm Frost Giant, though, so I guess I can stand colder temperatures then most people. I mean, it doesn't mean I like the cold, but it does keep me alive."

Another important fact that Thor had left them unaware of. She'd been aware that Loki had been adopted, but she'd always assumed he'd been the same species as his brother. She started bandaging the burn on his shoulder as she spoke. "We don't really have Frost Giants on earth, what are they like? Because, no offense, but you're not what I'd really call a conventional giant.

"It's ok. I was born a runt, so I'm about human-sized. Most Frost Giants are taller than any Asgardian, with blue skin and red eyes. They're killing machines, basically. The only reason I don't look like that is because of my own magic. It's a subconscious thing, I guess, because I sure don't know how to use magic anymore, or I'd fix this myself." He reached up, gesturing to the tattered skin on his back.

The disgust in his voice when he talked about his species wasn't concealed, and Natasha wondered briefly how he had been raised that he thought of himself that way. She didn't comment, however, except to ask him to sit back up.

He did so with a quiet groan of pain, and she started working on the lashes and burns on his chest. There were more bruises here, and she was careful not to press too hard as she cleaned his wounds. It couldn't compare to the bloody mess on his back, though, and she was quickly finished.

"Lift up your arms, I'm going to bandage this so it doesn't get any worse."

He closed his eyes, clearly trying to block out the pain as the bandages pressed against his raw skin and sore ribs.

"Don't worry," she said softly. "It'll feel better after a minute or so." She fastened the bandage and backed up. "Is there anything else I should look at?"

He hesitated again, clearly ready for her to leave. She had no doubt that is there wasn't something causing him serious pain he would immediately kick her out of the room, so she sat patiently and didn't try to push him. "Well… my shoulder and leg are a little sore."

She waited silently for him to continue.

He gently tapped his left shoulder. "It was dislocated pretty bad. Thor pushed it back into place, but I still can't move it very much. And my leg was broken-" he paused for a second, his eyes unfocusing for a moment as he relived what was likely a very painful memory. "M-my mum only had a minute to heal it," he continued as he snapped out of his flashback, "but I can walk on it and everything."

Natasha almost cringed at the thought of the rough Asgardian pushing the fragile boy's shoulder back together. "Alright, let me see. Move it as much as you can." He didn't even lift his elbow to shoulder height before he had to stop, and she sighed. "Can you tell me how it happened?" She watched his face, hoping thinking about it wouldn't trigger anything.

He looked away, going slightly pale. "I, uh… they hung me up by my wrists. And hit me. It dislocated after a while."

It was probably good that he'd looked away and couldn't see the horrified expression on her face. She hadn't been phased too badly by mentions of torture- she was used to it, with her job and everything, and she'd been tortured herself more times than she cared to remember- but this was different. It didn't sound like protocol for getting information from someone, or even for punishment. She'd only experienced the kind of pure sadism he was describing once or twice, and even to those people tormenting a child would have been too much. It took her a moment to be able to speak somewhat normally again.

"How… how long was stress put onto the injury?"

"I dunno," he said, still speaking quietly. "I wasn't really conscious for a lot of it. A few hours, maybe?"

"Well, you might have torn something. I'll wrap it up so you can't move it for now, but you should really have a professional look at it." She reached for the first aid kit for some sturdier bandages.

He sat still and let her wrap it. "Well, I'm not exactly a prince here on earth, and if I learned anything while I was here it's that everything costs money. I can wait until I return to Asgard to have it healed."

"No you can't, this needs to be treated as soon as possible. Bruce is a doctor, I'm sure he won't charge you for this. He's not that kind of person." She pinned the bandage in place. "Now let me see your leg."

Loki shifted, wincing as he straightened his leg and rolled up his pant leg. "Who is Bruce?"

Natasha gently touched the huge, dark bruise on his shin. "He's a member of the team. You might know him as the Hulk, I'm not sure you met him when he was all shrunk down…" She glanced up at his face, smiling slightly at the brief expression of fear that flashed over it. "Don't worry, he's much nicer when he's small. I'm sure he won't smash you this time." Her fingers brushed against something sharp beneath the skin, and Loki cried out in pain for the first time. "Yikes. Sorry." She looked up, lips pressed tightly together. His eyes were clenched shut and he was struggling to control his breathing, but he shook his head.

"It's ok."

Natasha sighed. "That means it's definitely not healed. How the hell have you been walking on this?" A bit of fractured bone was sticking out, and she shuddered with her own memories of how that felt. She didn't want to touch it any more, but she assumed it was snapped- maybe all the way through-  
and had been set unevenly. There was no way she was going to tell him this, but from her experience it looked like the bone would have to be broken again to get it to heal properly. "Bruce will have to look at this, too. I'm not even going to try and wrap it, but you have to promise not to move any more until tomorrow because I'm not brave enough to try to wake him up now. Ok?"

He nodded again, and she started to pack up her kit. "Try to sleep, don't move your leg… I'll be back tomorrow." She touched him softly on the arm, trying to be reassuring, before taking the plate and standing. She'd never been good with kids, but she hoped that she'd done a good enough job. She turned off the light and left the room silently, already caught up in her own thoughts.

\---

She wandered aimlessly through the tower after talking to the kid. Their apartments were near the top of the building, and it only took a few minutes of climbing to reach the terrace at the very top. She liked it up here, perched at the very top of the New York skyline like some kind of wild bird. She swung herself up onto the railing, knuckles white as she clung to the bars keeping her from plummeting to the second, smaller terrace a few dozen feet below. While the fall wouldn't kill her, it would probably hurt. 

She wasn't sure she trusted Loki. Her brain told her not to, and she certainly wasn't going to be letting her guard down around him, but there was something horribly soft and sentimental that lurked in the bottom of her chest and couldn't help but remind her of another pair of wide, frightened green eyes-

She shook her head as if she could physically dislodge the memories. She was not the same as the Asgardian. 

_Aren't you?_

No, she thought, I am not. 

_What has he done that you haven't?_ her mind whispered. _Kill? Lie? Betray? What makes him any less deserving of a second chance?_

Natasha let go of the railing with one hand to rub at her eyes. The wind up here was strong, and it tugged harder at her when she loosened her grip. She supposed, really, that it didn't matter whether Loki was telling the truth about being reincarnated, or whether he deserved to be punished for what he'd done to this city. With the life she'd led and the friends she had made, trauma was not a stranger to her by any means. She knew what pain and fear looked like when they lingered past the torment itself, and he might be the God of Lies but she was the Black Widow. Legendary for her comfortable relationship with falsehoods. He had tried and failed to trick her before, hadn't he?

She sighed again. This was tricky ground. Magic and gods, they weren't things she was used to factoring into her decisions. If Loki the murderer and Loki the frightened child were one and the same, did neither of them deserve forgiveness? Did both?

_Do you?_

It doesn't matter, she thought again as she swung back down to solid ground. We don't always get what we deserve.

She turned off her thoughts as she retraced her steps back down to the residential floors, but as she moved silently through the halls she couldn't help but pause in front of the child's door. She could hear crying from behind the heavy wood, muffled by a pillow and maybe by sleep, but unmistakeable. 

She stood there for nearly five minutes, listening. At nearly three in the morning, he couldn't have expected anyone to hear him.

She didn't go in. But by the time she returned to her room, slipping like a ghost into bed beside Clint, she'd made her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I made this clear already, but I'm a clintasha guy and I wrote this story before Joss Whedon personally came to my house and crushed my dreams in front of me.


End file.
